


the hollow men

by Morte_Sangriz



Series: The Hollow Ones [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Reincarnation, Ripple Effect, SI/OC, Self-Insert, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morte_Sangriz/pseuds/Morte_Sangriz
Summary: "Before she was an exorcist--before the Order, before Cross and Mana, before the promises, before the circus, before Red-who-was-Allen-who-was-Neah, before the hunger, before the loneliness, before Tyki, before the search, before the massacre, before the church, before Maria Elena, before the Earl, before her mother, before she had opened her eyes for the first time--she had died.Being born happened afterward."





	1. we are the hollow men

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tell it to the Marines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269486) by [Tsume_Yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki). 



> Yes I know, I'm writing one of those stories- a self-insert fic. I love the subject in general and finally couldn't hold myself back from writing one of my own. I hope you all give this story a chance. 
> 
> This isn't my main project, but I'll try my best to update this as often as I can.

“Hey, Allen? Do you know why people are willing to do anything for love?”

Allen was thoughtful, right hand absentmindedly reaching for the scar hidden underneath his bangs. His gaze was distant as he thought over his answer. The firewood let out a soft crack and the right words came to him as he watched the flames reflect in the night of her eyes.

“Because love can save people.” He said, “It can give them something to hold on to- a reason to keep on going, a reason to fight, a reason to live, a reason to die.”

His moonbeam eyes watched her from across the campfire, the flickering fire staining them with their light. They looked almost golden and her heart jumped to her throat. She averted her gaze and wrapped her arms tighter around her knees.

“You’re right.” She agreed,  “Love is strong enough a force for the Earl to use it to bring back the dead. It’s strong enough of a force for people to be willing to do anything for it.”

She heard the frown in his voice. “If you already knew the answer then why did you ask?

 _(Because a part of me wishes that the people I loved would have used their love to bring me back,_ she wanted to say, the words heavy on her tongue, _because I wonder if the love I have found in this world is worth anything when love didn’t save me last time I died.)_

“Because my mother was so in love that she sold her life to the Earl to hear my father’s voice one more time.” She said instead. “Because I’m scared of what I would give; of just how far I would be willing to sink into depravity for those I love.”

She smiled then and upward curl of her lips was forced, like it hurt her to do so. Like her smile was made out of shattered glass. Like she didn’t notice the way the effort made her bleed. Like she couldn’t taste the blood that filled her mouth at the words that escaped her.

(Scared of how far she’d sink into depravity? That was a lie.)

“How far would you go for the people you love?” Allen asked curiously and the part of her that had never stopped mourning him clawed jagged wounds on the inside of her ribcage.

 _(You already know what I would do,_ she wanted to scream, _youknowyouknowyouknow.)_

“Oh Allen,” Her smile grew wider ( _howcouldyouforgetwhatI’vedoneforyou_ ) she swallowed the words that threatened to erupt from her mouth and met his eyes again- because if those words left her then all she would lose hold on all the things she kept hidden.

The darkness the fire had been keeping at bay crept closer, seeping into her words as the flames shrunk into dying embers. “I’ll tear down the world itself, along with everyone on it, if that’s what will save the ones I love from their fates. ”

Allen shivered, goosebumps erupting on his skin despite the warmth of the night.

Her words sounded like an omen.

* * *

 

Her new life had started with a simple question.

“¿Te gustaría volver a ver a tu amado?” (" _Would you like to see your beloved again?")_

Skeletal arms wrapped themselves around her and a hummingbird heartbeat sped up with a pained stutter. There was a weakening heartbeat pressed against her ear; someone with rattling lungs pressing their dry lips against her forehead. The room smelled like antiseptic and blood; the faint scent of lavender lingering on the skin of the dying woman holding her.

The woman holding the infant in her arms carefully nodded in affirmation.

“Todo lo que tienes que hacer es llamar su nombre y estarán juntos otra vez.” _("All you have to do is call out his name and you will be together again.")_

The woman's heart was frantically trying to keep her alive but it was beginning to fail her. It was beating far too quickly; her breathing too shallow and irregular; her skinny arms trembling as she held her child close to her in desperation.

Her new life had started with a simple question; with a simple promise; with a single answer from her mother’s lips.

A scratchy voice filled the silence of the hospital room. “ _Rénee_!”

Then the Millennium Earl threw his head back and laughed as a man's soul was torn from the arms of God. He gave the akuma it’s first order and vanished in a violet flash.

The skeleton housing the soul of her father wept apologies as he killed the woman he loved, as he shoved himself down her throat, as he wore her skin and walked out the room.

He left his newborn child untouched.

* * *

 

(Later, when the Earl told her she had been lucky to have survived that night; she thought of how she was left in the sheets soaked with her mother’s blood until a nurse found her. She thought about the weeping of her grandmother at the funeral she should’ve been too young to remember. She thought about the years she spent wanting to claw the skin that wasn’t hers from her bones. She thought about activating her Innocence for the first time, screaming until her throat was raw for the pain to stop. And she smiled at him- whispering the words ‘ _lucky indeed.’_ )

* * *

 

Before she was an exorcist-

_-before the Order, before Cross and Mana, before the promises, before the circus, before Red-who-was-Allen-who-was-Neah, before the hunger, before the loneliness, before Tyki, before the search, before the massacre, before the church, before Maria Elena, before the Earl, before her mother, before she had opened her eyes for the first time-_

-she had died.

Being born happened afterward.

* * *

 

It didn’t sink in until months of waking up in a body not hers, that there was no going back to the life she had  _before_. Despite how much she wished otherwise, she couldn’t find it in herself to keep on denying the truth of what had happened to her. Her mother in the _before_ wouldn't have been pleased to hear that she was allowing herself to waste away. Her brother would have smacked her if he learned that she wasn’t doing her best to move forward with her life.

(But she missed her family so damn much that it ached to breathe every time they crossed her mind- because she would never see them again; would never hear their voice, their laughter, feel their embraces on her skin. God how was she supposed to live without her family there to let her know that things would be alright- how was she supposed to keep on going when she had nothing left?)

It took months for her to mourn the people she had left behind without a word of farewell; months for her to come to terms with her death and subsequent rebirth.

There had been a part of her for those first six months- that insisted that all of this was just a bad dream; that she didn’t _really_ slip through the cosmic fingers of whatever divine being was in charge of the whole reincarnation thing, and that she wasn’t born with all her past memories intact. There was a time when she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t been born into a fictional story, that she couldn’t really exist in the world of D. Gray-man.   

Because it was better to wish it was a just a bad dream, _a dreadful terrible dream_ , than to believe that her life had been torn away from her and that she had been forced to start over again in a world with demons and soldiers. Because there was a part of her that thought it better to imagine that maybe there had been a different kind of reason for her waking up after never expecting to do so again, than to think of it all just _happening_ without purpose, without something _worth_ the sacrifice of a lifetime lived.

Later in her life, she would regret asking for a reason; she would wish that everything was just a mistake; she would close her eyes as her friends died and pray to an uncaring God to let it all end. Later in her life, the purpose given to her would crush the air out of her lungs; but by then it would be too late to do much of anything else.  

* * *

 

Early on in her new life, she learned that the world was infinitely cruel.

She learned that love could drive people to madness (her mother loved so deeply, that the devil himself took note) and that God had a twisted sense of humor. She found herself unable to stop thinking about the way things had turned out; about _the demon born from her mother’s grief._

(Her mother had _died-_ and her _dead_ father had _killed_ her.)

How did someone get over something like _that_?

Her mother had called upon the Millenium Earl within the first minutes of her life. She’d been born to a dying woman with a hummingbird heart and wheezing lungs- with a metal skeleton at the foot of the bed and someone half-mad murmuring sweet nothings into her mother’s ears so she called out the name of the dead.

The name that was hers now- her grandmother named her in honor of her father.

_Rénee Lúz Castillo._

* * *

 

She often dreamt of horrible things. Of things she remembered from a lifetime ago.

Of stories full of tragedy that fit with the world she was born into.

Of children fighting in wars they wouldn’t live through.

Of soldiers knowing they could not run from their duty or the world would die.

Of metal skeletons and anguished people calling souls back.

Of a war with cogs slicked with oil blood and the despair of those who had nothing to lose.

Of weapons like demons and guardians like monsters.

Of massacres and far too many funerals.

Of brothers, betrayal, fractured psyches and death.

Of haunting music and silver eyes melting into gold.

 

(She never got to know how the story ended before she died.)

* * *

 

If the sleepless nights were good for anything though, it was letting Rénee know that she had someone who cared for her in this life. Rénee had heard hymns being sung to her; had felt gnarled, gentle hands comb through her fluffy hair whenever a whimper escaped her from the nightmares that haunted her night after night.

(It made the ache of being in a body that didn’t belong to her burn less.)

This person was a constant in her new life. She was the one who fed her, changed her, and raised her. She was an older woman with plenty of stories and tales of adventure that she told Rénee despite assuming she didn’t understand them due to her age. Her grandmother loved telling Rénee stories. Rénee loved listening to them. They lessened the crippling depression that had clung to her from the moment she realized what had happened, and took her mind away from the fact that she was entirely dependent on another person for her survival.

Her grandmother, Maria Elena, didn’t even bat an eye at her odd behavior. Though Rénee’s heart sunk at realizing that Maria Elena was oblivious to her daughter’s fate and that the words of what had happened that night would never escape her lips if she could help it.

The freedom her grandmother granted Rénee allowed her plenty of time to work on the goals she had set for herself. Rénee wasn’t impressed with the struggles of childhood so far. Teething had been a _terrible_ experience. Her limbs enjoyed flopping around like limp noodles. She was so _moody_ , and all she did was _sleep_.

She spent most of that first year listening to folklore and making plans about how she could regain her independence. She was too young to physically take care of herself, but it didn’t stop her from practicing speech and her movements. Rénee was determined to walk and talk as soon as possible, it would make the anxiety at being so helpless fade.

(The disgust at her own existence would take much longer to disappear.)

* * *

 

The natural order of things dictated that once anything was born, it one day had to die.

The person she had once been had known in the way every human being did, in that instinctual gut-wrenching way, that she could not run from death. She had known it from the moment she was old enough to understand what death was. She had known it as the darkness swallowed everything she was, had been and could have been.

(She had known it as she died.)

Whoever she may have been in the past, Rénee was someone different.

Rénee was the one that crawled out of the darkness, was the one that had to live in the stolen body of a child. The natural order of things dictated that once something died, it was to stay that way. Akuma were weapons born out of love and despair. They were creatures birthed from death who stole the skin of another to evolve.

In a way, she was like an akuma; they were both things that would have been better off staying dead. Only monsters destroyed the order of things and by living again she had destroyed the order, she had become something _unnatural._

Unnatural creatures could hate the truth of what they were- but it would not change the horror of their existence in the slightest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudos and comment what you think about Rénee's character so far.  
> Please remember that it'll take a while before she meets anyone of the plot, so bear with me.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! 
> 
> -Love, Morte_Sangriz-


	2. Interlude i: Grandchild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first weeks with her granddaughter were unnervingly quiet. The child was silent, never crying, never making noise even when she was long overdue for a change of diapers or a feeding. Maria Elena would have been more concerned by it if she hadn’t had to arrange a funeral for the second time in the last year. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel like writing Rénee's early childhood so I wrote this instead. Chapters in other people's point of view will be labeled as interludes to make my life easier. I'll probably update this story whenever I have the chapter written, so updates might be sporadic.

Ayamonte in the late 19th century was a picturesque and calm town- one of the few places untouched by the raging civil wars and political unrest that affected the rest of Spain.

After the disaster of Queen Isabella the Second and the uprisings that happened afterward, the Spanish people could only hope that the new king would be a good change for Spain. No one wanted to relive the wars between Portugal and Spain, and as a border town- Portugal was just across the river- Ayamonte would greatly suffer from any conflict that arose between the two neighbor countries.

The community of the river town was a tightly knit one; residents lending a helping hand to each other in their times of need and standing united as a town.

Maria Elena was known as the town’s _Bruja_ , the eccentric but ultimately harmless herbalist that inhabited the small fishing cottage near the riverbank. She ran a stall in the village market every day, from sunrise to sundown and she brought her little grandchild with her on the days none of the fishermen’s wives could watch her.

She kept Rénee from getting bored by asking her to grind the non-toxic herbs down into a fine dust, teaching her the right way to hold the mortar and pestle and explaining to her what each plant was for.

Ginger, she would tell the tiny girl, was good for nausea, dizziness, and indigestion. Echinacea was used to treat colds and a great deal of other ailments. St. John’s Wort was given in small doses to help deal with melancholy but too much of it was dangerous.

Rénee eagerly drank up the knowledge and smiled with every explanation.

Maria Elena was just glad that Rénee knew when to act like a normal child and when it was safe to show how much she understood. While Maria Elena had grown to accept the oddities of her grandchild, other people weren’t so understanding- they would be scared of the small girl.

(She knew it because that fear bubbled up inside her when she met Rénee’s eyes.)

* * *

 

The first time Maria Elena laid eyes on her granddaughter, one thought reared its head.

Rénee Lúz Castillo was born with her mother’s face and her father’s eyes.

It was something bittersweet to Maria Elena- to look at her granddaughter and see Teresa looking back at her. She still had photographs of Teresa’s wedding, of her darling girl holding a delicate hand to her bloated belly with a joyful grin as her new husband pressed a kiss to her cheek. It hurt Maria Elena to look at the pictures and remember that the only way she would see her daughter alive again was a child that looked so much like her.

It might have been wrong of her- but Maria Elena was glad that Rénee didn’t take much after her father. That way it was almost as if she had her precious Teresita back by her side.

The first weeks with her granddaughter were unnervingly quiet. The child was silent, never crying, never making noise even when she was long overdue for a change of diapers or a feeding. Maria Elena would have been more concerned by it if she hadn’t had to arrange a funeral for the second time in the last year.

(And if during the funeral Maria Elena was too busy weeping to notice that her granddaughter had stared at the tombstones with something akin to horrified realization _-_ then it was nobody’s business.)

In the beginning, it had been a relief to not have to care for a wailing child while she was so deep in mourning. In the beginning, it had been easy to pretend that the Rénee was simply quiet for her age, that she was simply a calm child no matter the occasion.

Then Rénee turned one month old and all traces of the calm child she had been vanished.

(How was Maria Elena to know that the first month of silence was simply Rénee in shock, that the implications of waking as an infant had yet to sink in?)

It started with the night terrors. It started with the frantic thrashing in her sleep; with the inexplicable screams that tore out her throat with such force that her entire body trembled. It started with wailing so _terrified_ that Maria Elena jolted out of bed and flew across the cottage to make sure that there was nothing wrong with her granddaughter.

(How was Maria Elena to know that it was just Rénee remembering the day she had been born, that the horror of her mother’s scream and father’s weeping had seeped in so deeply into her memories that every time the scene replayed it was as if she was living it over again?)

It took Rénee nearly six months to get better and when it was over, Maria Elena was left with more questions than answers- questions she would never get the answers to.

* * *

 

Maria Elena had a tin box filled with pictures, with the faces of the people she loved, stored away under her bed. Rénee was only six months old but so smart already, despite this, Maria Elena planned to wait until she was old enough to understand who the people in the photographs were before showing them to her.

She would tell her stories of the day Teresa and the first Rénee, her father, met. Show her the old photographs she had of them grinning at each other with nothing but adoration in their eyes. She would show her granddaughter the picture of a red faced Rénee, a laughing Teresa, and a grinning Catalina.

She would tell her of her eldest daughter, of how her lovely Catalina who went off and married a Portuguese man but raced back to Spain upon hearing that her little sister was being courted. How Teresa had laughed and laughed at Rénee’s look of mortification at the threats her sister threw at him once she met him at last.  

Maria Elena would share her simple treasures with her granddaughter because she loved her as if she was her own. And one day, the pictures would become Rénee’s treasure too.

* * *

 

Much later, when her mind answered _yes_ to a question which should have been answered _no_ \- she would wonder whether or not it was possible to love the same thing you feared and whether that could be called love at all.

Maria Elena had no way of knowing it but her granddaughter would ask herself that same question years later.

(She would ask it as she wiped the blood away from a sleeping man’s face; fearing but loving; loving but dreading what the man would become. She would stare into bloody water showing her warped reflection and think that it wasn’t normal to love and fear the same thing- unknowingly mirroring her grandmother’s thoughts all those years ago.)

* * *

 

Her granddaughter was a year old when Maria Elena realized that there was something _off_ about her.

The child’s peculiar behavior wasn’t damning in and of itself- there were always bound to be children who acted strange in their infancy- but it was when the first year passed and Rénee remained odd that Maria Elena began to look closer.

Behind the small smiles that Rénee gifted her whenever Maria Elena told her a new story was a certain fragility that had never been present in another child she had ever met. It was as if the child was simply humoring her, babbling and laughing at the right moments even though the smiles never seemed to reach her eyes.

At night Maria Elena could hear Rénee from the nursery, making sounds of all kinds. Most of the time they were mere gibberish, simple sounds that made no sense and put her more at ease because it was something normal for children to babble at all times of the day. Sometimes the nonsense would sound a bit more like words and Maria Elena would be more on edge on those nights.

It was during one of those nights that Rénee relapsed, falling into a crying fit that Maria Elena hadn’t seen the likes of in months. It was after she had strung together sounds that made no sense when put together; a made-up word that sounded nothing like real Spanish. The incident served to reassure Maria Elena that her granddaughter, despite all her oddities, was still a child.

Because children babbled; children cried; children made sounds that sounded like words but were nothing of the sort- just things with no meaning.

What kind of meaning would a word like _akuma_ have anyway?

In the end, out of all the quirks that her granddaughter showed that could serve to label her as different- it all came down to Rénee’s eyes.

_There was something wrong with them._

There was something about them that hadn’t been present in the girl’s father’s eyes despite them sharing the same shade of brown. There was something about them that unnerved Maria Elena when she saw them set in a face so like her daughter’s. There was something unnerving about the way Rénee would meet her eyes whenever Maria Elena spoke to her, the way she seemed to understand more than an infant should be able to.

There was an emptiness in her granddaughter’s eyes- the kind she had only seen in the those who had lost everything in the war- and it chilled Maria Elena straight to her bones every time she met that vacant brown.

Such look shouldn’t be in a child’s eyes.

* * *

 

The word to describe the darkened glint Rénee’s eyes didn’t come to Maria Elena until her granddaughter was almost two years old and they had just closed up the stall in the marketplace.

They often went to church after a busy day to thank the Lord for making sure they had enough money to put food in their bellies. It was on the third Tuesday of May, in the privacy of the confessional walls, that Maria Elena had her epiphany.

“Viejos… Tiene ojos viejos,” ( _"_ _Old... She has old eyes,")_ Maria Elena said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, her fingers curled around a wooden rosary as she spoke to the wooden screen. Her voice trembled as she continued, “Todo este tiempo no sabia que era sobre sus ojos que me molestaba. Tiene la mirada vieja, como si ha visto más que yo soy capaz de entender… ”  _("All this time I didn't know what it was about her eyes that bothered me. She has aged eyes, as if she has seen more than I'm capable of understanding.")_

“Si la quiero,” _("I love her,")_ she quickly added, “Es todo lo que me sobra de mi Teresita, como no la podría querer?”  _("She's all I have left of my Teresita, how could I not love her?")_

The priest on the other side of the wood was silent for a moment. Then his voice, pitched low to come off as reassuring, answered her, speaking just as quietly as she had a moment before. “¿Temes a tu nieta?”  _("Do you fear your granddaughter?")_

Did she fear her granddaughter? Maria Elena thought about the question.

She thought about the aged eyes, the old eyes, that Rénee had; about the instincts that screamed ‘ _abnormal’_ at her every time the child spoke with clear words and moved with movements much more fluid than a toddler should have.

She thought about the ease in which Rénee picked up the small bit of Portuguese she had been teaching her; about the way she knew words in Spanish that Maria Elena was sure she’d never spoken to the girl; about the mysterious language in the middle of the night.

Maria Elena knew that the answer should be no if only to because she knew that Teresa would be devastated if she were to know but it was wrong to lie in the house of God _._ There was no doubt that she loved her granddaughter but that wasn’t the question, was it?

Did she love her granddaughter?

_Of course, she did._

Did she fear her granddaughter?

_Yes, she did._

Maria Elena opened her mouth and breathed out her answer.

The truth would be a secret between her and the priest.

* * *

 

The day Maria Elena died, she saw there was something familiar in the blackness of death- she had been seeing the same darkness in her granddaughter’s eyes since the very beginning. And so Maria Elena welcomed the emptiness she had feared but grown to love; because if she could love a child whose eyes reflected death, then what had she to fear from death itself?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this so far! Please let me know what you think of the story so far.


	3. we are the empty men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The thing was- knowing what was to happen, jolting the future on one of the empty journals Maria Elena had given her to practice her alphabet, staring down at everything she could remember from her past life with a numbness in her chest- there was nothing she could do with the knowledge she had. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing this story a lot more than I probably should considering I have other things to write lol. Regardless I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I've received a lot of positive feedback about the additions in Spanish, so I'm reconsidering what I said earlier of changing it all to English. I'll have trouble with this when I get to other languages that I'm personally not fluent in, but I suppose that Google Translate is always a thing for those moments lol.

There was a truth that Rénee learned upon her waking.

Death itself was not cruel.

She, like whoever she had been a lifetime ago, was aware of her own mortality. Of course, that awareness was far more intimate now than what past her would have been able to reach but she had always known how easy it would be to die.

And so it was. She died without even knowing how it came to be.

That part, she would have been able to understand.

That part, she would have been able to move on from.

That part, she had been prepared for since she understood the meaning of the word ‘ _death’._

But she hadn’t stayed dead.

She had opened her eyes to a world much darker than the one she had left and felt nothing but _despair._ And since then Rénee had lived, marked by death in a way that only one who had experienced it could, with the darkness sunk deep into the marrow of her bones and the echo of nothingness reverberating through her veins with every beat of her heart.

The emptiness that had greeted her at the end of who she had been had followed her into this new life; it crept and swallowed the light in her eyes without her knowing and twisted itself around the smiles that curled her lips.

“ _Does everyone that look at me know what I am?”_ She asked her reflection when she looked into a mirror for the first time and saw a monster wearing the skin of a little girl looking back at her. “ _What kind of unnatural thing are you?_ ”

The truth Rénee learned upon her waking was that death itself was not cruel. It was a truth that would be reinforced as the years dripped away- when she survived her infancy with nothing but luck and pity; toed the line between starvation and freezing more often than not; and fought in a war that she didn’t believe in.

Death wasn’t cruel. It was quite the opposite really.

 _Life_ was cruel. A part of her felt as if she had always considered that as a possibility, even far before she died, but that it was only upon her rebirth that it was cemented as truth.

There were nights were Rénee felt like she was more machine than human- like her heart was made of clockwork and it was slowly rusting to a stop. As she grew older, as the weeks turned to months that became years, those nights came more often and there was nothing she could do but question her humanity.

Akuma were demons born of despair and grief, stealing skin of another and killing thousands for no other reason than to evolve.

Rénee had been born to a woman reeking of despair and grief, hadn’t she? Hadn’t she stolen the skin of whoever this child would have grown to be when she came into existence as well? Didn’t that make her just the same as an Akuma?

Was she really even human?

She understood that technically, the body she had been born in ( _had stolen)_ had never died. This body, the freckled Spanish girl with wide doe eyes, was just as human as everyone else. Pain licked at any injuries she acquired like it used to in her past life, the hurt burning her nerves and making it clear to her that this body was _human human human._

Her blood ran just as red as it would on any other human being. It dripped from her forehead when she hit her head on the corner of a kitchen chair and hit the ground with a thud when she had just turned two. Maria Elena had screamed when she saw her.

The blood had been sticky and a bright red- but Rénee couldn’t remember whether Akuma bled oil or just as red as the rest of them.

It hadn’t seemed like an important thing to keep in mind in her past life. How could she have known that the story from a lifetime ago would become her new reality?

Rénee remembered plenty of details about the story she had been born into. How could she not- when her most common nightmare was waking up one day to see the skin peel back from her flesh and only see the gleam of metal underneath.

The thing was- knowing what was to happen, jolting the future on one of the empty journals Maria Elena had given her to practice her alphabet, staring down at everything she could remember from her past life with a numbness in her chest- there was nothing she could do with the knowledge she had.

How the hell could she expect to change a thing?

Her head reached just above her grandmother’s knees. Her body didn’t function in the same way an adult did. She was still physically a two, almost three, year old girl.

How did she expect to keep her _abuelita_ safe from the Akuma when there were only two ways to destroy them and she had access to neither?

Even if she found the Black Order and told them everything she knew, she’d be trapped in the cage of the Order walls. She would have to leave her grandmother behind, the only person that she had left to live for. Telling people what she knew would only draw the attention of creatures and people she would much rather stay away from.

It was safer to pretend that there were no such things as monsters- even if she still wasn’t sure if she was alive or just another demon wearing human skin.

* * *

At some point that she couldn’t quite place- something changed.

For Maria Elena, it was the burden of what she felt toward her granddaughter.  It was the press of fear and confusion, the guilt of not knowing whether or not everything that Maria Elena had seen of her grandchild was real or simply in her mind. It wasn’t unheard of for mothers to go mad from the grief of losing their child- and heaven knew that Maria Elena had grieved.

Not that Rénee would ever know any of that. At least not in its entirety.

Maria Elena loved Rénee enough to never want her to find out the truth.

For Rénee, it was the realization that she had grown to care for the older woman more than she had anticipated. There was something about her grandmother that made the loss of the ones she had loved settle into something less painful. Maria Elena was the salve to ease the burn of loneliness that had ached inside Rénee since she had woken up.

She found that it was easier to laugh now. The world was brighter in her eyes and more colorful than she remembered it being. If she were to put an explanation to this new development it would be simple.

It had always been easier for her to live for someone she loved than for herself.

* * *

Rénee was sprawled across the edge of her grandmother’s bed, tossing a _peseta_ into the air and lazily catching it with her left and right hand alternatingly. The silver coin gleamed as it flipped in the air above her and she watched it with a distracted gaze.

Her mind was elsewhere.

She had heard an interesting rumor while in the market earlier that week but that wasn’t what her thoughts were stuck on. She couldn’t stop replaying what had happened that day.

It had started with a simple enough sentence:

“Las minas de Rio Tinto estan embrujadas,” a man said quietly from the stall beside where Rénee had been marveling at small wooden carvings.  _("The Rio Tinto mines are haunted.")_

It was only by chance that Rénee happened to overhear his statement; startling at the man’s declaration and whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes.

The mines of Rio Tinto were… _what_?

This was the first time she had heard someone speak of the mines that way, with none of the fondness some of the old miners that passed through town held towards them. Rénee had heard enough of those conversations to know that while working in the mines was hard, the labor was worth it when it came to the reliable money the miners were offered.

There were myths about the mines- about the Rio Tinto mines and the fabled mines of King Solomon being the one and the same. It made for fascinating folklore to erupt from the people living in the towns nearby but with the exception of the few accidents that had occurred inside the mines, there wasn’t much to speak badly of.

It was the first time that Rénee had heard anything of the mines being haunted.

Intrigue piqued, she slunk closer. Her eyes caught on the profile of a single man, seemingly in his early twenties, with an arm held to his chest by a sling.

“¿Porque dice algo asi?” The woman working the stall asked in shock.  _("Why do you say something like that?")_

“La gente está desapareciendo en las minas,” _("People are disappearing from the mines,")_ he replied grimly, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, with a glossy sheen over them, “y están comenzando de desaparecer en los pueblos cercanos.”  _("and they're starting to vanish from nearby towns.")_

There was something about his posture that screamed exhaustion as if it was mere willpower keeping him going and he wasn’t sure what to do when that ran out.

Rénee bit back a gasp. People were going missing in the mines?

Mining accidents weren’t as common as they had been once upon a time- but since Spain had sold the mines to England, there had been an enforcement of safety regulations that had not been present until recently. From what Rénee had heard, England had established what would later be known as the Metalliferous Mines Regulation Act and since the Rio Tinto mines were now the property of England- those regulations applied to them as well.

There hadn’t been any news of missing miners and townspeople of the nearby villages, something not entirely surprising if the English were trying to avoid negative publicity.

It raised another question for Rénee; where had this man gotten his information?

“¿P-Porque me esta contando esto?” The older woman was shaking.  _("W-Why are you telling me this?")_

Simply looking at her, Rénee could tell that she had an idea of why the man had come to her and that she was hoping with every fiber of her being for it to not be true.

The man sucked in a trembling breath and he bowed his head.

“Vine para decirle que su hijo ha desaparecido.”  _("I came to tell you that your son has disappeared.")_

His words made the woman reel back as if struck; as if the weight of the world had made its home upon her shoulders and she had no idea how to remain upright from the pressure.

“Lo buscamos por días,”  _("We searched for days,")_ The man continued speaking; as if he hadn’t noticed how telling a mother that her son was missing would destroy her; as if he couldn’t tell that with every word that came out of his mouth, he tore a bigger hole into the weeping woman’s heart.

Maybe he hadn’t. His eyes were blurred with tears.

“Lo buscamos por dias,” _("We searched for days,")_ he repeated with a sob, “pero todo lo que encontramos de él era su ropa y nada más.” _("but all we found of him were his clothes and nothing else.")_ he dropped to his knees. “Perdoneme.”  _("Forgive me.")_

Rénee was frozen in place.

After days of searching, all that they could find of the woman’s son was his clothes? How cruel it was for that to be the only news to give to a desperate mother. Is that why hearing those words made it so that Rénee’s stomach rolled in horror- because she had no clue as to what her mother had been told about the death she couldn’t remember?

An agonized cry ripped itself from the mourning woman’s lips and she screamed a chant of ‘ _no no no’_ to the open blue sky overhead.

Rénee felt the urge to do the same but bit her tongue.

“Por favor… Perdoneme.” _("Please... Forgive me.")_ The man whispered one last time before Maria Elena pushed her way through the crowd and grabbed Rénee by the arm, towing her back to her own stall where she hastily closed it down.

Rénee didn’t pay much attention to what happened next. All she knew was that now, a week later, the woman’s stall was nowhere to be found. Rumors said that ‘Inez’ had sealed herself up inside her house and refused to leave it until her son was found.

Rénee knew that meant that Inez would most likely never step foot outside again.

She tossed the _peseta_ once again.

Her left hand was the one to pluck the glistening silver coin from the air this time. The girl’s fingers curled around the _peseta_ tightly, as if holding the coin tighter might stop the faint trembling in her hands _._ The edges of the coin dug into her palm as Rénee pressed her right hand to her eyes to ease the burn in them.

Had her mother collapsed to the ground like Inez had when they brought her the news of her only daughter’s death? What would her brother tell her nephew about the sister he once had, now long gone? How many people showed up to her funeral?

How many people had she not had a chance to say goodbye to?

The man’s words from the market rang through her ears again- though not the ones she expected, not the ones begging for forgiveness that had echoed in her mind for days.

_“Pero todo lo que encontramos de él era su ropa y nada más.” ("But all we found of him were his clothes and nothing else.")_

Thinking over the words gave her something else to focus on, something other than what had happened to her loved ones in her sudden absence. There was something about that sentence that had made her skin crawl when she had first heard it, but it had been lost amidst the emotions Inez’s mourning had invoked in her.

Rénee frowned. What could it be that had bothered her so?

Rénee dissected the sentence in her mind, saying the words aloud as she did so- trying to find what it was that was putting her on edge.

 _“Pero todo lo que encontramos de él,”  ("But all we found of him,")_ She repeated quietly, _“Era su ropa y nada más.” ("Were his clothes and nothing else.")_

She mouthed the words to herself one more time and then it hit her.

Her eyes grew wide. It couldn’t be.

**_“...Su ropa y nada más.”_** _("...his clothes and nothing else.")_

The _peseta_ in her hand forgotten, Rénee sat up with a gasp.

Her chest _burned_ as if she were drowning. Like she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs to ease the wildfire in her ribcage. Like there was flame inside her airways instead of breath and it was searing its way out her from the inside out.

The nothingness that curled around her bones bloomed outward, into a garden of darkness that spotted her vision. Tiny black dots danced before her eyes, meshing together to form larger blobs of black as ringing grew ever so louder in her ears.

It didn’t feel like any oxygen was being dragged into her lungs, no matter how quickly she gasped for air. There was a pounding in her skull. It reminded her of her dying mother that first night- of her racing, fluttering, hummingbird heart.

**_“...Su ropa y nada más.”_** _("...his clothes and nothing else.")_

The answer was staring her right in the face.

The ringing in her ears, the pounding of her heart- they all screamed the same thing. The buzzing of her blood, the darkness in her eyes- they all whispered that word, the one that had haunted her since she became Rénee.

 _Akuma_ , the fire burnt into the soft tissue of her lungs.

 _Akuma,_ the blackness stained into the ivory of her bones and the delicate nerves of her eyes.

 _Akuma,_ the fluttering heartbeat carved onto the inside of her skull.

There are Akuma in the Rio Tinto mines, Rénee thought when there was a moment of reprieve in the panic that she was being swallowed by and choked back a hysterical laugh.

It seemed that no matter how set she was in keeping away from the monsters that filled her nightmares, Rénee could not escape from the machines.

After her panic attack had passed, Rénee did something she hadn’t done in almost a year.

She put her head down and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I begin to lay the foundation for the progression of the plot in this one. Don't forget leave kudos and to comment what you liked about this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	4. we are the mourning men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the years that followed, Rénee would think that maybe it wasn’t just her grandmother that was haunted by Teresa’s ghost. Although, at that point in her life, Rénee would have more ghosts haunting her than just that of her mother. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I mentioned that I wouldn't have a specific update schedule for this story but I'll try to not make a habit of taking so long to update. I've had some messages about possible pairings and as of now, I have to say that I don't have any in mind. I'm not entirely brushing off the possibility of romance in the future, but that will not the be the central focus of this fic.

“Es tiempo que conozcas a tus padres,” her  _ abuela _ had whispered earlier that morning, voice raspy and the hand wrapped around Rénee’s own as tight as a vice.   _ (“It’s time that you meet your parents.”) _

Rénee had sluggishly rubbed the sleep out of her freshly opened eyes and let her grandmother stuff her into a simple black dress. The weight of her  _ abuela’s _ words didn’t hit her until they scurried out of their home and stopped to buy two small bouquets of flowers to place upon the graves of both of Rénee’s parents.

The June sky was clear and the sun blinding. Rénee’s hand was held in her grandmother’s calloused one, their footsteps in sync on the hard cobbled road. A small breeze twined the hem of the black dress Rénee wore around her knees and chilled her exposed skin. 

The mood was heavy between Maria Elena and Rénee; just like it always was on the days leading up, and of, Rénee’s birthday. It was, after all, the day Maria Elena’s daughter had been declared dead. It was the day Rénee’s grandmother had been given a dead girl in the body of an infant to take care of- not that Maria Elena knew that- one that had grown to look so much like the daughter she had lost. 

It was as if Maria Elena was raising the ghost of the little girl her Teresa had once been. 

It was almost fitting in its irony. 

_ A dead girl as the mirror image of a dead woman.  _

She was a child with the same face, with the same laugh, the same smile, as her dead mother. Rénee wondered whether or not she would be able to look at her reflection when she grew older and not see the image of her mother’s final moments echoed in the shape of her lips, in the splattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, in the width of her eyes. 

In the years that followed, Rénee would think that maybe it wasn’t just her grandmother that was haunted by Teresa’s ghost. Although, at that point in her life, Rénee would have more ghosts haunting her than just that of her mother. The people lost to her in another life were the first ones _.  _ Teresa was among the ones that came after. 

Despite the time that had passed, the events in the market and the mines had left the people of Ayamonte unsettled and wary. 

Rio Tinto was on the other side of the Huelva Province and for word of the disappearances to reach Ayamonte, things had to be worse than they seemed. Even though weeks had passed since the first news of the disappearances, it seemed that the rumors had only managed to evolve as they were passed from one person to the next. The stories grew warped and twisted as they floated through the town and every time Rénee heard them they shifted closer to the truth.

“ _ They dug too deep and found something they shouldn’t have found,”  _ she heard more than once. “ _ Monsters slept in the mines but they’re awake now.  _ **_They’re awake now.”_ **

The rumors weren’t wrong. Akuma were the same as monsters and there was one living in the depths of the Rio Tinto mines. Or were there multiple? How many monsters did it take to kill significant chunks of the population? She wasn’t sure if finding out that it only took one would make her feel better or worse. 

Rénee just wondered when it was that she began hoping that it wasn’t the soul of her father that was bringing so much death. Maybe she didn’t want to imagine that the body of a woman with the same face as her was killing so many people. Maybe she didn’t want the soul of the man she was named after to commit such atrocities.

Maybe she was terrified of the thought of there being another living dead thing so close to the home she had made in the small town of Ayamonte.

Nevertheless, even from the other side of the Huelva Province, the missing miners and villagers were having an effect on people. Most of the town’s inhabitants were doing their best to avoid being outside longer than they needed to. It was obvious in the tenseness of their shoulders, the downward slant of their lip-  that everyone was scared that what was happening to the miners would make it’s way to their town. 

The marketplace had been somber and full of muted voices earlier that day, enough so that as Rénee and her grandmother crossed it on their way to the church, the girl quickened her pace and did not look back. 

There was a certain weight in the air that only fear wrought. Rénee had her own terror about the monsters that lurked in this world; not all of them truly monsters, some perhaps closer to human than she was. She didn’t need to see the frightened faces of civilians that knew nothing of the demons hiding in human skin. She didn’t need their fear to seep through her skin and pile itself atop of the fear that already dwelled within her heart.

The church bells tolled as the sun climbed higher into the sky. 

Her grandmother led her to the back of the church. Leaving behind the towering doors and heading towards the small graveyard past the courtyard gardens. As Maria Elena took her through the gleaming metal gates and the winding labyrinth of tombstones- Rénee wanted to do nothing more than run away. 

Rénee understood grief. 

If there was nothing else that she could understand, she would still know love and grief like it was tangled in the very fibers of her being. Perhaps in this new life- after her soul came back from death like that of a demon clinging to a spider thread- everything that made up Rénee Castillo was simply grief spun together with whatever remained of who she had been. 

She was a fractured being pieced together with so much grief it was able to transcend lifetimes and enough love that she clung to life with the desperation of one who had lost everything and everyone once already.

Sometimes she forgot that she hadn’t always been Rénee. 

Graveyards though? The nightmares that woke her up with lingering images of butterflies chewing their way out of human flesh?

They made Rénee remember that no matter how real she felt-  _ in the warm embrace of her grandmother with her bare feet gritty from the beach sand; with caresses of the ocean cold against her skin as she held Maria Elena’s hand in her own; as she listened to the song of the wind as she watched the sun sink into the embrace of the sea, setting the sky aflame while it did _ \- she didn’t belong in the world she lived in.

Maria Elena had no way of knowing that Rénee was the soul of a dead girl in the body of an empty child- and therefore had no idea that Rénee felt her skin crawl with the remembered embrace of death every time she laid eyes on a tombstone.

“I should be buried here,” Rénee wanted to say, “Me and the girl I killed when I clawed my way back to life and wore her corpse to pretend I was still human.”

“¿Como se murió mi padre?”  _ (“How did my father die?”) _ She whispered instead, tongue curling around the words before she could think about what she was asking. 

* * *

It was an impulsive request; one born from the letters she had found beneath her bed with curled edges, pressed flowers, and her mother’s name scrawled across the front of the envelopes. She had almost read one out of curiosity but something had stopped her before she could pull one of the parchments out of its envelope. It was a small, hastily scrawled note, on the same side where wax had once sealed the contents of the letter shut. As if the author had felt the need to write on the outside of the envelope as well as inside. As if what they had to say was so important that it couldn’t wait for the parchment to write it on.

In crooked handwriting- slanted, rushed- was a simple message:

**_Mi Teresa, mi tesoro, te amare siempre._ **

**_(My Teresa, my treasure, I will love you forever.)_ **

 

**_Mi amor para ti nunca morira._ **

**_(My love for you will never die.)_ **

**_-Rénee-_ **

She had dropped the letter as if burnt as the memory of her mother’s haunted eyes; of the way the dead Rénee’s name had escaped Teresa’s lips like it was the only prayer she was capable of murmuring; of the weeping of the akuma after he killed her mother. Of the sound of her father forcing his Dark Matter skeleton down the throat of her mother’s corpse in a sickening song of snapping bones and dripping blood that echoed in her empty room.

It all looped in her head. 

Rénee threw up 

After she had stopped heaving and felt well enough to clean up the mess, Rénee had tucked the letters away in their hiding spot with trembling hands and wondered just what kind of man her father had been. 

* * *

At Rénee’s request, Maria Elena flinched and turned haunted eyes towards her. Aged gray stared into darkened brown eyes and something flickered in Maria Elena’s eyes before she looked away. Her grandmother took a shuddering breath and replied in a voice so soft that Rénee almost missed it.

“El mar se lo tragó entero.”  _ (“The sea swallowed him whole.”) _

Grief weighed heavy on the words. Rénee could almost see the way they had caused the spine of a strong woman to bow under the strain of them. Maria Elena placed a bouquet of flowers, almost reverently atop each of her parent’s graves. She cast her eyes upward- let a moment of silence float between them.

Then she told Rénee about her mother, her father, and the love they found in each other.

Rénee’s father had been desperate for enough money to support his new wife and the child they had on the way. He had been desperate because the fish he had been bringing in didn’t seem to be enough to support the small family he had made. His desperation gave way to action and he left to fish further from shore. Then a storm swept in and he was swallowed by the sea. Just like Maria Elena had said. He had been twenty-five.

Teresa had been twenty-three when she had died. That’s what stuck out to Rénee the most about the woman that had met her husband-to-be at twelve years old and married him ten years later. Teresa had still been so young, a mere five years older than what Rénee remembered being before her own death; when she became a bride, mother, and widow in the span of a year. 

Rénee wasn’t sure that she could judge her mother for the desperation that eventually claimed her life. And Teresa  _ had _ been desperate. People didn’t strike deals with devils if they thought there was another way out. 

In the end, it had been a choice between the daughter she just gave birth to, between the mother that had seemed impossible to tear down, between the sister out of reach and in another country- and the love of her life. 

That night, three years ago, Teresa’s choice had been made. There was nothing Rénee could do about it. The only thing she was able to do was to do her best to soothe the hurt that festered in her grandmother’s heart from the loss of her youngest daughter and the estrangement with her eldest daughter that resulted of Teresa’s death.

Rénee closed her eyes and reached out to clutch at Maria Elena’s trembling hand. 

“Disculpeme abuela,”  _ (“I’m sorry, grandmother.”)  _ She murmured and kept her eyes on the two tombstones. She pretended that she couldn’t hear the weeping coming from beside her.

They stayed in the graveyard until the church bells tolled for the sermon to begin.

And then, after Maria Elena had pieced herself together enough to pull herself away from the damp earth of her daughter’s grave; they pushed open the heavy doors of the church and stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think about this chapter. There's still some time before canon characters come into the picture but do not fret! They will eventually show up.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this! See you next time.


	5. we are the waking men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Words built up inside her chest until it felt like she would drown in them; explanations of what she was, of the things she wished she didn't still remember, of the war that would claim more lives than it would save- it all burned in her throat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter you guys! I actually wrote some plot instead of just prose bullshit lol cx
> 
> Like Rénee says in this chapter, this is where the ball gets rolling and things start to change. Very, very, fast.  
> In all honesty, from here on forth Rénee's life kinda goes downhill. So while I know there weren't many- if any- happy moments for Rénee, get ready for life to get extremely difficult in the next chapter lolol. 
> 
> Also, I know I'm not really the kind of author that begs for comments but like, there were no comments on the last chapter? Not even a hello or anything. I don't want to make it seem like you, the readers, have to comment on every chapter but just occasionally drop me a comment about what you think so far? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The day they appeared, the gears of Fate began to turn. 

Inside the arching church cathedral, the townspeople sang along to the choir music that chimed clear and high. Maria Elena swayed to the tune and twirled her giggling granddaughter, passing her squirming form to Sofia, one of Teresa’s friends from early childhood. Perhaps this kind of rambunctious behavior from the church attendees would be frowned upon in other places, but here in Ayamonte, everyone knew each other. They weren’t strangers that would judge each other for having fun as they worshiped.

Today, despite the sorrow that they all felt for the loss of Teresa’s life. The people were rejoicing a new beginning. They were celebrating the betrothal between Sofia Camila and Ernesto Guerra and cheering for Rénee’s three years.

Even Inez had come out of her self-imposed exile for the occasion. She looked much frailer than Rénee remembered but at least she was smiling and not weeping like the last image Rénee had of the woman that day weeks ago.

“Abuela, mira!” ( _“Grandma, look!”_ ) Rénee cried and twisted the chain of the necklace Sofia had placed around her neck. The gold glistened under the sunlight streaming through the church windows and Maria Elena stepped closer to examine the glistening amulet sitting just below her collarbones. “No es bonito?” ( _“Isn’t it pretty?”_ )

Maria Elena blinked and looked at Sofia with surprised eyes. “No sabia que todavia tenias esto,” ( _ “I didn’t know you still had this,” _ ) she murmured as she ran careful fingers along the crystal, “Pense que Teresa se lo dio a su hermana la ultima vez que la miro.” ( _ “I thought Teresa gave it to her sister the last time she saw her.” _ )

“ Se le olvidó llevarselo a Catalina. Lo encontre en un rincón del cuarto donde se quedó en aquel tiempo.” ( _ “Catalina forgot to take it. I found it in a corner of the room she stayed in back then.” _ ) Sofia smiled but her eyes were sad. “Se lo iba a dar cuando llegara otra vez pero…” ( _ “I was going to give it to her when she came back again but…” _ )

Rénee followed the conversation in confusion. She was sure that her grandmother had read her a letter from her aunt, Catalina, not so long ago. Rénee knew that Catalina lived in Portugal with her husband Tomas but beyond that, she only had stories and pictures to get to know her aunt with. Her aunt had never visited in the time that Rénee had been alive. 

She couldn’t help but wonder why that was. 

“Rénee,” her grandmother called and brought the girl’s attention back to the celebration in the church. “Cuida esto, okay? A estado en la familia por mucho tiempo.” ( _ “Take care of this, okay? It’s been in the family for a long time.” _ )

“No dejare al algo le pase,” She promised. ( _ “I won’t let anything happen to it.” _ ) 

Rénee curled small fingers around the necklace. 

It felt odd in her grasp, almost as if it throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

* * *

 

Rénee should have known that such happiness would not last. Years later, she would look back and know that it started then- when the Finders of the Black Order first found their way to the small town of Ayamonte, Spain. 

June 6th, 1872. 

Her third birthday.

The beginning of the end.

* * *

 

The sun was setting; only a few people remained inside the church, either to help clean up or to make arrangements for the upcoming wedding. 

It was then that they slipped into the church like wraiths cloaked in white. Strapped to their backs were clunky machines, clanging with every step and glinting under the gas lights lined along the church wall. 

Rénee recognized them the moment they came into her line of sight. Nausea surged. The ground dropped out from beneath her feet. Her clockwork heart stuttered in its beating.  They looked nothing like she imagined they would. A part of her thought that they would appear in front of her with the same cloud of dark cloying terror she felt when they crossed her mind.

The villagers that still hung around gawked shamelessly at the two strangers making their way to Father Antonio. Rénee had curled a hand around the necklace at her throat and was in the middle of trying to remember how to breathe when they spoke.

“Los Buscadores de La Orden Negra piden refugio en su iglesia.” The tallest of the two solemnly said and respectfully bowed his head at the openly gaping priest. ( _ “The Finders of the Black Order seek refuge in your church.”) _

“La Orden Negra.” Rénee mouthed soundlessly. ( _ “The Black Order.” _ )

Her eyes were glued to the duo of men cloaked in white, whose hard eyes and stiff spines make her scamper for Maria Elena’s hand with the fear of being torn away from her grandmother pressing on her bones. 

Maria Elena glanced down at Rénee curiously and frowned at the expression she saw on Rénee’s face. Her grandmother carefully crouched in front of her and brushed the hair away from her face. There was only genuine concern and slight fear; as if her grandmother could sense that anything that scared her-  _ the child with eyes of death-  _ was something to truly be wary of.

“Porque le tienes miedo a esos hombres?” ( _ “Why are you scared of those men?” _ ) Maria Elena asked in a whisper, keeping gray eyes locked onto Rénee’s own and flickering back to glance at the pale figures of the Finders talking in low voices with Father Antonio. 

Words built up inside her chest until it felt like she would drown in them; explanations of what she was, of the things she wished she didn’t still remember, of the war that would claim more lives than it would save- it all burned in her throat.

But Rénee choked it all down. 

“Se miran como fantasmas,” ( _ “They look like ghosts,”) _ she whimpered and buried her face in Maria Elena’s shirt. The lie tasted bitter as it slipped from her tongue. 

Rénee felt the tension drain from her grandmother almost immediately. 

“Tu abuelita no dejara que los fantasmas se te acerquen.” The woman told her with a relieved twinkle in her grey eyes. ( _ “Your grandma won’t let the ghosts get close to you.” _ )

She called a farewell to Father Antonio and to the loitering villagers and walked away with Rénee’s hand in her own. Right before they pushed the church doors open, Rénee turned her head and accidentally locked eyes with the tallest Finder beside the altar. 

His eyes were a pale blue and they seemed to see right through the living girl to the corpse underneath. Rénee drew a jagged breath and turned her head away, feeling those eyes bore into her back as she left the church.

That night, when darkness came and Rénee lay awake as the moon took to the sky; instead of her usual nightmares, of those memories of the first night, other images surged up in their place. 

It was as if the dreams had needed a trigger in order to break down a wall she hadn’t even known was in her mind- the Finders proved to be the perfect catalyst.

* * *

 

_ Yuu was born in a hole deep underground, in a place where there was no such thing as the sky; and ghosts, promises, and flowers haunted him.  _

_ In the testing rooms, there were only crows without wings and pillars of Innocence wrapped around corpses. There were only the two screaming boys and then two silent bodies, and after they were glued back together by a power that went against the laws nature had set in place- they were back to being the screaming boys. _

_ “Once more,” someone ordered and on their chest- a Rose Cross gleamed a shiny silver. “A war cannot be fought without soldiers.” _

_ But the soldiers fell apart outside of rooms of forced synchronizations. Limbs dropped to the cold ground as blood dripped from reopened wounds. Childish laughter chimed in a cavernous chamber; the sleeping soldier boys and girls did not stir at the sound from their holes in the ground. _

_ Yuu dreamed of his hand stretched out to the vast, blue sky; an “I love you,” bubbling from his lips like the blood did as his ribs punctured his lungs, and of a smile like the curve of a lotus petal twining around his heart.  _

_ He woke to Alma trying to save his life.  _

_ He fell unconscious again after dragging himself from the water and collapsing in arms that smelled like blood. As he dreamt, he remembered.  _

_ “Before the petals fall…” The ghost whispered. _

_ (He had seen the sky in another life.) _

_ “I’ll wait for you, Yuu.” She said and when he opened his eyes once more, he looked at the ones that had done this to him-  _ **_youliarswhatdidyoudotouswhatdidyoudo_ ** _ \- and laughed.  _

_ He laughed and laughed then screamed and  _ **_screamed_ ** _ ; while the boy with the endless smiles- with the ghost hanging over his head- burned alive.  _

_ Alma’s charred, blackened, crumbling hands reached for Innocence- the same that had cut him down again and again and again at the whim of an uncaring God- and… _

_ Feathers of crystal bloomed, blossomed, grew, like lotuses under blue skies.  _

_ “Do you promise to find me?” Alma asked once in another lifetime as pink petals reached up towards that vast, blue sky. “I’ll be waiting forever.” _

_ The sword was swung. The boy with the bright smile saw corpses. The ghost chained to his body covered her eyes and wept.  _

_ Hatred festered. Innocence was corrupted. _

_ Birds without wings, crows without feathers, lay bloodied on the cold, hard ground. Scientist soon joined them, and then, so did the sleeping soldier boys and girls in their watery wombs. Screaming. Blood dripped like wax from tilted candles onto water slicked floors.  _

**_Red. Red. Red._ **

_ “Yuu, let’s die together okay?” Alma told the boy who had come back from the dead to find (the ghost) him. _

_ The boy cursed to see flowers fought. “I can't die here with you.” _

_ A sword, a cry, tears scalding as they fell.  _

_ “I want to live!” _

_ Hacking. Slashing.  _

_ And so Yuu cut him up into little pieces until the pieces stopped coming back together and his best friend- his only friend- was like every other broken thing that couldn't save itself.  _

_ Vomit washed over bloody feet. _

_ A Rose Cross was visible among the puddles of blood, peeking out like pale pink petals did as they struggled upwards towards blue skies.  _

_ He dragged his battered body outside. _

_ Then, Yuu saw the sky for the first time. _

* * *

 

Rénee woke up with her mouth open in a scream that had no sound. Her shoulders shook as massive sobs wracked her body and she tried to muffle the wails that tore out of her throat.

Yuu Kanda and Alma Karma were things just like her. They had died once and had woken up in another body, with them knowing there was something  _ wrong _ about the fact that they existed but not learning why until it was too late. 

If things had been different, would Rénee have woken up in a watery hole deep underground as well? Would she have been forced to bond with an Innocence that served a God she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to love, even if it rejected her over and over again?

It was this reverberating idea, of a possibility she had not envisioned possible until she had Yuu Kanda’s memories replaying in her brain, that made her stop amidst trying to ease her weeping and lurch to the bathroom to vomit.

The Black Order wasn't a monster in the sense of the world- not like the Earl with his too-wide grin, akuma pretending they were human, or the living Innocence that destroyed all the things in its path. But if Rénee looked at the things that the Order had done, had sanctioned, in the name of God, then the lines between black and white blurred much more than she liked. 

The question that she was forced to ask herself whenever she contemplated the Black Order was: Did the ends justify the means? 

Once in another life, she would have answered that without hesitation. Yes. 

If a war is won then do the casualties truly matter? Wouldn't it be worse if they had died for nothing at all? What were a few sacrifices if there were thousands of other's lives at stake?

Now as Rénee, as she shuddered awake with a silent scream on her lips and tears dripping down her chin night after night. She wasn't sure of her answer. 

She thought of the screaming of children that existed beyond pages of black and white, beyond television screens, beyond the realm of make-believe. Everything was much more real now, given a depth that she had only felt when she realized that her parents had become both the parasites and the host of monsters with metal skeletons. 

She felt as if the blood had frozen in her veins despite the hot tears burning her eyes. Rénee trembled as she knelt before the toilet.

Did the end justify the means?

She didn’t know anymore.

* * *

 

The memories were never pleasant. 

She knew they were dreams of things she already knew, but they felt like memories in the way they presented themselves to her. They uncurled from where they had been buried deep in her mind and played through the events as if she had lived through them herself; rather than having simply retained the knowledge of the plot and its characters from a manga she read a lifetime ago. 

Every night, Maria Elena hugged her close after Rénee’s screams woke her. 

“Las pesadillas no pueden durar para mucho mas. Se iran pronto, veras.” Maria Elena assured her, even as her grey eyes looked troubled in the dim lighting and it was the fifth day that Rénee had woke her up with her cries. ( _ “The nightmares can’t last for much longer. They’ll be gone soon, you’ll see.” _ )

Rénee wanted desperately to believe her. 

But the dreams did not stop coming.

(Not even years later.)

* * *

 

Rénee did not see the Finders again until the day they left Ayamonte. 

She didn’t  _ have  _ to see them in the time of their stay for their presences to become an itch on her skin, for her to feel like a hunted animal that the Black Order would not let go of if the truth of what she was came to light. Deep down she knew that her unwillingness to go back to the church until they were gone was nothing but a red-flag for anyone that knew her. 

Despite the fact that her soul was much older than her physical body, Rénee couldn’t help but succumb to the instincts of childhood when they arose. Especially on the occasions they rose up with enough force to push through the ‘timid’ and reserved girl she presented herself as to anyone but her grandmother; like when she chased after the birds congregating in the plaza, or picked up rocks she deemed pretty so she could give it to the people in church the next day. 

That’s what made her sudden avoidance of the marketplace and church odd. Everyone in Ayamonte had, at some point, lent a hand in the watching and raising of the  _ Bruja’s _ granddaughter. They, despite how much the grumpier of the villagers argued against it, were all attached to the tiny freckled girl. Rénee never vocally admitted it either, but she was attached too. 

That’s why she couldn’t wait for things to go back to normal once the Finders left. 

And when Rénee received news that the Finders were finally leaving, she felt more at ease than she had since the members of the Order had set foot into her life. Rénee nearly wept with relief as she watched the men robed in white set off toward the train station. 

Even the fact that the tallest of the duo had paused as he walked away and turned his frigid blue eyes in her direction- where she had hidden in one of the of bushes that framed the church so that she could confirm the Finder’s departure with her own eyes- did not stop her joy. 

It felt like she could breathe again.

* * *

 

Before June had a chance to fade into July, the Finders came back to Ayamonte.

Except this time they were not alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope to have the next one up by next month.


	6. Interlude ii: The Finders (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Liam wondered if one of those figures was the little girl that had set his partner so on edge. Liam’s mother had taught him not to pry into the lives of others, but every time Ethan pointed out another child that he thought ‘odd’, Liam had to force himself to hold his tongue and push back the questions that wanted to rush out of his mouth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys, it's been a while! I swear I'm not abandoning this story, it's just not the main fic I'm working on. Here's an update to let you know that I'm not giving up on this fic and hopefully the rest next part will be posted in a week or two. 
> 
> Also, shameless self-promotion, if you want to see the fic I've been investing most of my time into just take a look at "To Dream of Spiders" on my dash. It's a Hunter x Hunter OC fic. I have tons of fun writing it so hopefully it will make up for the lack of activity on this particular fic. CX

“There was something wrong with that little girl,” Ethan told Liam seriously after the Spanish priest had agreed to shelter them both in the small rooms adjacent to the church and had left to speak to the other people still inside the building. 

“You mean the one that looked terrified of us?” Liam turned to glance at the door the girl and the old woman had walked through minutes ago. He quirked a brow questioningly. “I don’t know, Ethan. She just looked like a normal kid to me.”

Ethan didn't move his eyes away from the large church door. His body was tense as if he was preparing for something to burst through any moment. Small drops of sweat beaded on the edges of his hairline. He looked like he was about to be sick.

“No, Liam,” He argued weakly, “You don’t understand.” His face was wan- complexion gone pale with horror. His breathing was quick. “You didn’t see what I did. There was this terrible look in her eyes. She knew what we were, Liam. Somehow she knew-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Liam cut in soothingly, trying to calm down his mission partner before the man worked himself into hysterics. He placed a gentle hand on Ethan’s shoulder and the other Finder flinched at the contact. “Let’s go to the room and take a breather, okay? Whatever it is we’ll handle it together, like we always do.”

He led his partner towards the back rooms with a soft touch his upper arm. Carefully. As to not startle him with any unexpected movements. 

The back of the church was just as the front of it, the walls made of slate-gray stone and built with arched ceilings tall enough to not feel suffocating. The hall to their borrowed room was lined with wide windows, the view from a glance showing the gardens lining the edges of the church and the silhouettes of townspeople on their way home in the distance.

Liam wondered if one of those figures was the little girl that had set his partner so on edge. Liam’s mother had taught him not to pry into the lives of others, but every time Ethan pointed out another child that he thought ‘odd’, Liam had to force himself to hold his tongue and push back the questions that wanted to rush out of his mouth. 

This kind of behavior from Ethan wasn’t anything new. 

It wasn’t the first time he lost his composure over a child that had done nothing to warrant such suspicion, to begin with.

It’s not like Ethan was the first Finder that had personal issues due to people that set them off. He could guess as to why Ethan was so jumpy around children- most likely the same reason he didn’t feel comfortable in the presence of blonde girls with gray eyes- but out of all the Finders Liam had met, Ethan was the worst at hiding what kind of person he feared. 

The communicators on their backs clanked with each step they took, filling the empty hall to their borrowed rooms with a metallic clang that ate up the silence their boots on the stone floor could not. Liam was grateful for the sound; it meant that he didn’t have to talk in order to make the quiet lessen.

They reached the room without encountering anyone else. 

Liam slid the door shut behind them and watched as the color slowly came back into Ethan’s face. He shrugged out of the straps for the communicator and carefully placed it near the bed he decided he’d claim after an initial glance at the room. 

The bedroom was modest.

Two nightstands; two twin beds, linens, and pillows already in place; wooden crosses nailed over each of the beds. A single window lay between the two beds, a straight-shot view to the church cemetery around the back of the building. 

He sat on his bed, the frame creaking but settling after a moment. 

It’s not like he could complain- it was exactly what they had requested, a place to stay at while they waited for the Order to give them the location of the Exorcist they were to meet up with for their mission. 

Ethan cleared his throat, his fingers tapping on his leg and more color present on his face. “I'm okay now,” he murmured, taking off his own communicator after a moment and slowly sitting himself down on the bed. “I’m okay.”

Liam nodded encouragingly. 

He waited for Ethan to explain, for the hundredth time, why this little girl was just as evil as the other innocent children they’ve come across during the time they’ve been partners.

There was a part of him that wanted to let out the words bubbling in his chest, to stop Ethan’s excuses before they began. Except, years ago, it was him in Ethan’s place. It was him who felt the blood freeze in his veins at the sight of someone who looked just like **_she_** did and back then, there had been another Finder, one of his first friends to help him through the panic that wanted to claw its way up his throat.

And so, when Ethan began to speak; it was all Liam could do to prop his chin on his palm, draping his other arm across his knee and listened to his partner’s excuses once again.

* * *

 

The sun rose from the east, entering through the window they’d forgotten to draw the curtains over the moment it peeked over the horizon.

The light brightened the room and Liam switched from unconsciousness to awareness in the space between a breath. He took a moment to blink the bleariness out of his eyes and sat upright. Ethan was still asleep. When he turned his gaze towards his partner, the only thing visible was black hair sticking out from a figure entirely wrapped in the blanket. He could hear his partner’s soft snores, the sound breaking the silence in their borrowed bedroom. 

Liam smiled at the sight before yawning and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet coming into contact with the cool stone. The chill sent a shock through his nerves that woke him fully and had him quickly reaching into his pack for socks. 

He supposed it would be easier to just sleep with his socks on if only to avoid touching the cold ground when he tried standing up. But the few times he had tried to do that were spent with him unable to sleep until the woolen abominations were kicked off. At this point in his life, Liam was resigned to the fact he was incapable of sleeping with socks on. It was something that Ethan, with his ‘special sleeping socks’, made jokes over when it was mentioned. 

At least Liam didn’t carry around socks  _ specifically _ for the purpose of sleeping. 

Now,  _ that _ was weird.

He took his time rifling through his bag, sorting out clean clothes for the day ahead and making a mental note to ask the priest from yesterday, Father Antonio, about somewhere he could wash his dirty laundry. He examined his Finder cloak, deciding that it could use a wash as well considering the hem was freckled with mud and dirt from the journey here. 

Quietly, Liam gathered his clean change of clothing and made his way to the bedroom door. The door, hinges recently oiled, swung open without so much as a squeak. Liam made sure that it did not slam shut behind him. 

There was a bathroom behind the first door to the right in the hall. Liam found it there last night after Ethan had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep and he had spent some time searching for it. 

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Ethan was awake and looking around the empty room in sleepy confusion. His expression cleared at the sight of Liam entering the room. 

“Bathroom,” Liam elaborated at Ethan’s inquisitive stare.

“Was wondering where you went,” Ethan said with a yawn, shooting Liam a grin after a moment. “Figures you’d take forever.”

“It’s not like we’re in any hurry. Until the Order contacts us with our mission location I’m considering this a mini-vacation.” Liam retorted. “God knows it’s the only way I’m getting one.” He added in a surly grumble.

Ethan rolled his eyes and unwound himself from the blanket he was tangled in. “You’re starting to sound your age, old man.” He looked better than he did the night before, face no longer pale, voice no longer trembling. 

Liam was glad.

He didn’t appreciate Ethan’s idiocy though. Liam’s brow twitched and the bundle of yesterday’s clothing in his hands hit Ethan squarely in the face. “Shut up moron. You’re only two years younger than I am. If I’m old what’s that supposed to make you?”

“It makes me a youthful teenager,” Ethan said brightly as his feet found the ground at last. He left the blanket in a crumpled pile on the bed, a complete opposite of Liam’s own neatly folded blanket. The obnoxious yellow of his sleeping socks starkly contrasted with the gray stone floor. The wool making his steps silent as he walked to the end of the bed and dug through his bag for clothing.

“Youthful teenager, my ass,” Liam muttered even as his lips curled upward. Technically, he supposed Ethan  _ could  _ be considered a teenager since Ethan’s nineteenth birthday wasn’t until August and Liam had already turned twenty-one that February. 

“Keep  _ that _ kind of attitude up Liam,” Ethan wiped away imaginary tears, “And you might just hurt my feelings.”

“Hurry up already!” Liam groaned loudly as his stomach tightened, “I’m hungry and we still have to figure out where we can buy food in this town.”

“Fineee, no need to give yourself a heart attack, old man.” With that said, the younger Finder marched off to the bathroom with a dramatic huff.

Liam’s stomach gurgled again and he sighed.

Now, to wait for Ethan to take his time in the bathroom.

* * *

 

Ayamonte was much more welcoming during the daytime than the dusk, that was for sure. There were people hustling about, flitting from stall to stall like bees flying from blossom to blossom. Voices clamored together as merchants advertised their goods. The air smelled like the ocean, crisp and fresh, with the faintest tang of sea salt. 

It was a good facade, he wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong had he not been a Finder. Liam could see that there was a nervous energy present in the people that spoke of fear and anxiety. There was something happening in this town. Something that was spoken of in whispers that vanished when they neared and hidden behind brittle smiles. 

“Is it just me or is this town on edge?” Ethan asked; hands twined behind his head and blue eyes sharply taking in the sight of another group of villagers passing them by with their heads bowed. “There’s something wrong.” 

“Yeah,” Liam agreed, taking a bite of the grilled fish he had purchased a few stalls back. “We should figure out what it is before we leave.” 

The bells of the church tolled, marking the passing of time. 

Ethan sighed but let a small smile curl his lips. He wasn’t against the idea. “I thought you wanted this to be a mini vacation? What happened to resting your old man bones?”

“I keep telling you I’m not that old,” Liam chastised, pointing the skewered fish at the younger man with a playful scowl before turning a wistful gaze to the spire of the church. “And though I haven’t called Spain my home in years, it’s still the place where I was born. I have a patriotic duty to help this town out.” 

“I didn’t know you were Spanish,” Ethan muttered and shot him a guilty look. 

“And I absolutely knew you were English.” 

They wandered around the marketplace for a bit longer, peering at the wares on display and taking note of any they’d have to come back to purchase another day. Their mission of the day was finding a washerwoman to leave their filthy clothing with. 

Their white coats would need to be washed too, Liam realized with a sigh. They couldn’t keep on going around with bloodstained and mud-crusted coats without standing out more than they already did. And if there was something truly wrong in this town like they felt there was, then standing out more than they needed to was the last thing they needed. 

Between getting lost in the winding streets of the small coastal town and losing the coin toss to determine who was going to ask for directions back to the church, Liam let out an exhausted sigh as he approached an older man sweeping the front of his home. 

“Con permiso,”  _ (“Excuse me,”) _ He called softly, taking care to not startle the man, “Me puede ayudar a encontrar la iglesia desde aquí?”  _ (“Could you help me find the church from here?”) _

The old man jumped regardless, whirling around with the broom brandished like a weapon. The whites of his eyes stood starkly out from his ashen face. His mouth was curled in a soundless snarl. The broom was held aloft for a moment- long enough for Liam to jump back and out of reach of the makeshift weapon- before being slowly lowered when the two Finders did nothing more than raise their hands defensively and watch with sharp eyes. 

“Quien son?” The old man demanded, his breathing less erratic than seconds before but the lines of his face deepened by the heavy frown he wore.  _ (“Who are you?”) _

Ethan and Liam shared a wary glance, communicating without words until Ethan gave a small nod and Liam stepped forward. “Yo soy Liam, y este es mi compañero, Ethan. Está bien señor? No fue nuestra intención asustarlo.”   _ (“I’m Liam and this is my companion, Ethan. Are you alright sir? It wasn’t our intention to scare you.”) _

The man stared at them with careful eyes before he sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “Perdon,”  _ (“Sorry,”)  _ He mumbled in embarrassment, “Todos estamos agitados recientemente.”  _ (“We’re all on edge recently.”) _

“Que ha pasado para tenerlos así?”  _ (“What's happened to have you all like this?”)  _  Liam prodded carefully. It was clear the man was more willing to speak with them than the other townspeople.

Said man tightened his hold on the broomstick for a moment before he loosened his grip. He cast wary eyes at the people hustling on the streets around him and gestured for them to come closer. 

“La maldición de las minas comenzó en nuestro pueblo,”  _ (“The curse of the mines began in our town,”)  _ He said when Liam and Ethan carefully stepped forward.

Liam saw Ethan’s eyes widen and tried to hold back his own shock at the declaration. Of course, they had heard the rumors of the Rio Tinto mines, they were Finders after all and part of the reason they were waiting in Ayamonte, to begin with, was to gather more information about the events occurring all over the Huelva Province. 

“Tres años atrás la primera persona desapareció,”  _ (‘Three years ago the first person disappeared,”)  _

In the distance, the church bells tolled. 

“Su nombre era Teresa Castillo.”  _ (“Her name was Teresa Castillo.”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd like to hear what you think about this chapter despite the lack of Rénee present in it. 
> 
> I know it's taking a while for things to build up, but fret not! I have things planned! 
> 
> Don't forget to kudos and comment! Thank you for reading! C:
> 
> -Love, Morte_Sangriz-


	7. Interlude iii: The Finders (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole situation had him on edge. There was something about this information that set warning bells off in his head. He hadn’t survived these four years as a Finder without gaining the sense of when things were far too easy to be anything more than a trap, or when there was something much more ominous going on underneath the veneer of normalcy that was presented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no concept of an update schedule for this fic lol  
> I'm doing some heavy plot progression in this chapter and the next, so we won't see our sad girl until maybe two chapters from now. I hope I'm not droning on too long with these OCs but it's necessary for what I have in mind, so sorry! C:

Information gathering was, at times, the easiest part of being a Finder. It simple enough to eavesdrop on locals going about their businesses; especially when they spoke amongst each other about things they wouldn’t dare share with outsiders in the middle of marketplaces. In the Black Order, during training, they were taught how to blend into the background of crowded places like this, despite how conspicuous they were in their white coats.

In towns like these, there was always someone willing to waggle their tongue about the shady rumors that nobody liked to acknowledge. It usually took time, money, and luck to find those individuals. Stumbling onto Oscar Moreno and the goldmine of information that he had- about the missing people and the events that connected the small town of Ayamonte to the vanishing of people all over the Huelva province- was akin to a miracle.

Liam didn’t believe in miracles anymore.

This whole situation had him on edge. There was something about this information that set warning bells off in his head. He hadn’t survived these four years as a Finder without gaining the sense of when things were far too easy to be anything more than a trap, or when there was something much more ominous going on underneath the veneer of normalcy that was presented.

After casting nervous eyes to the streets around them, the old man, introduced as Oscar Moreno had begged them to move their conversation indoors. They had sat in silence while he had pulled out page after page of evidence he had to support his claims. Then, he had taken a deep breath, pressed his lips together into a firm line, and began to speak.

“Hey, Liam, what were the mission parameters again? Was anything like this mentioned?” Ethan asked quietly an hour later, nudging him with his boot and flicking his eyes to the kitchen doorway. It had been quite some time since the old man had invited them in, so Oscar had gone into his kitchen to make them all something to eat and drink.

It was just the two Finders sitting in the living room until he returned.

In front of them both, scattered on the squat coffee table, were dozens of snapshots of people and news clippings about the unexplained events that had been occurring in the town for years now. In the center, atop of piles of papers, sat news clippings of the woman Oscar had told them had started the disappearances to begin with. There was no picture to go along with the morbid articles but even without them, Liam felt sick as he pieced together what must have occurred in this quiet fishing town.

“No,” He said softly, brushing the tips of his fingers across the headline.

**Madre Desaparece; Hija Encontrada en Condiciones Espantosas.**

**_(Mother Disappears; Daughter Found in Horrifying Conditions.)_ **

“No,” He repeated, looking away from the mess of papers and up to his partner with somber eyes. “This is the first time I’m hearing any of this. I don’t think the Order has any idea of what’s going on here.”

“Well, we have to tell them don’t we?” Ethan stated, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. He got up to pace back and forth. “How do we even report something like this?”

“There are procedures in place for situations like this,” Liam said, “I think that it’s best if we gather as much information as possible before we inform the Order about this. It will help when we make the report to Headquarters.”

Ethan whirled to face Liam, his eyes flashing with disbelief. “What do you mean we should wait!? The longer we wait, the more people will _die!_ ”

“Don’t you think I know that!?” Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm the surge of anger that rose up at Ethan’s words. When he spoke, his words were even and steady. “I told you there are procedures in place for this and that includes showing proof of the claims that we’re making. The Order won’t waste the few Exorcists it has just to follow up on the suspicions of two Finders. The more information we have to back up what we’re saying then the sooner an Exorcist will be dispatched to our location.”

They needed to make sure that they had the date of the Akuma’s origins narrowed down. A timeline would help to make note of which of the missing people Oscar had listed down were actually victims of the Akuma and had not simply left town without being noticed.

Ethan puffed up in indignation, his fists curling at his sides before loosening. He visibly wilted. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey, look at me.” Liam said, meeting the younger Finder’s eyes firmly, “We’ll help these people.”

The reason Liam had become a Finder in the first place was to help as many people as he could; to help them against the monsters they didn’t even know existed. He had dedicated what would remain of his life to this cause. He had known that day he had accepted this white coat that he wouldn’t allow anything to shake him from this path, even if it was this path, this cause, that led to his death. It would go against every vow he had taken, every promise he had made to the graves of the Finders he had once called his friends, to turn his back on a village full of people unaware they needed aid to begin with.  

Ethan sighed and let himself glumly sink back into the chair he had sprung up from. He twined his fingers together and rested his forehead against his hands quietly. When he spoke, it was as the sound of Oscar’s heavy footsteps approached from just beyond the kitchen doorway.

“Do you promise?” He asked, no hint of his usual humor in his voice. Liam was starkly reminded, as he looked at the tired slump to Ethan’s shoulders and the flat line of his lips, of how young Ethan really was. “Do you promise that we’ll help these people in the end?”

There was a sense of foreboding that stirred right in his gut at the words.

“I promise,” Liam said and wondered if it was a promise he would be able to keep.

* * *

 

Even with the knowledge that there were Akuma hiding out in the town, Ayamonte was stunning in its vibrancy. It buzzed with the sounds of voices in the marketplace and the soft rustling of the trees dotting the town. The air smelled faintly of the flowers surrounding the church and of the seaside tang that towns bordering the ocean tended to have. There was a stench of fish and brine that grew stronger as one walked closer to the vendors near the edge of the market, and fishermen peddled off the freshly caught fish before the sun could rise to its fullest and spoil their wares.

In the light of the morning sun, the mood of the crowd was brighter than it had been the previous day, a fact that wasn’t uncommon in towns Finders often found themselves investigating. Human felt the safest in the glow of the light, a remnant of the instinct that haunted every human being- the fear of the unknown that came with the coming of the dark.

Liam stirred sugar into his coffee with a spoon and brought it to his lips. He let his eyes flutter shut as caffeine washed over his taste buds and felt the muscles of his shoulders relax. He was out of uniform at the moment, so no one spared him a second glance as they passed by the outdoor tables of the cafe. Ethan had gone to drop off their dirtied clothing at the workers of the local lavoir so that the clothes could be washed before the day was through, so Liam had been left to his own devices in the town’s marketplace.

His gaze flitted from the people roaming the marketplace just beyond the small cafe he had settled down at. A lot of faces were familiar. He had seen them in the daily masses that were held in the church. Many of them greeted the stall owners with warm familiarity. It was clear that these people had known each other for a while, if not years, and had no reason to distrust each other. It would make rooting out the Akuma both more difficult and much simpler.

People weren’t quick to tell strangers about the people close to them. But they were valuable resources that shouldn’t be overlooked by any Finder seeking further information on the townspeople and the events occurring within a town. Once someone started talking, it paved the way for others to step forward as well- and made it easier to communicate with other members of the same community.

Liam finished his coffee and sighed as he turned his eyes skyward. Watching the people bustling through the marketplace instilled a bittersweet aching inside him.

The weight of nostalgia pressed down on his heart.

He hadn’t been home in years. He had left without a backward glance- a hot-blooded teenager determined to give his life for a cause no one knew about- and had yet to regret his actions. But it was in moments like this- breathing in ocean kissed air in a town he could almost imagine was his own, with the lingering taste of Spanish roasted coffee on his taste buds and the hum of his native language buzzing around him- that he felt the closest thing to regret and homesickness that he would ever allow himself to feel.

The chair screeched across the stone underfoot as he stood up.

He reached into a pocket and placed a generous tip beneath the empty mug of coffee.

Then, he left the cafe.

He let his feet carry him where they pleased, keeping his ears open for any conversation that might come in handy later. He idly toyed with the money in his pocket, slowly moving from stall to stall with curiosity and interest.

He was running his fingers along the smooth lines of a carving he had pictured up, marveling at the tiny features skillfully cut into the wooden bear. It was a tiny work of art and he voiced it to the man running the stall, who beamed at the praise and continued in whittling at another piece of wood.

Occasionally his eyes would flit to the towering spire of the church and the thought would cross his mind, morbid as it was, of how many graves there might have been to people who had been dragged back to life to do the Millennium Earl’s bidding. Of how many graves were empty in the town of Ayamonte.

He had once stumbled across a town where there were only twelve living people, the others turned to dust or had become the fleshy hosts of the demons themselves. That had been a difficult mission. It was always painful to see the grief-stricken faces of the ones left behind, the survivors, and to always see a hint of who he had been in them.

As the day sluggishly moved past, Liam’s pocket grew lighter and his arm became laden with the bags or paper wrappings of the places touched by his patronage. He wondered if Ethan would like the present he had gotten him and smiled at the imagined reaction of his partner.

“Has visto Inez  recientemente?” _(“Have you seen Inez lately?”)_ Liam heard a man ask a nearby stall owner, a woman with her gray hair pinned in a bun and a table of flasks and powders before her, “No se mira muy bien.” _(“She doesn’t look so good.”)_

Liam paused, his eyes locked on the polished beads of a rosary.

Inez? That was a familiar name. It was the one that Oscar had told them about, the woman who had recently discovered her son was missing. He hadn’t gone into much detail about the circumstances surrounding the son’s disappearance, just mentioned the fact that the rumors of the Rio Tinto mines had only arrived at Ayamonte when the news of Inez’s son emerged.

She was one of his prime suspects of harboring the Akuma in her body.

“No,” _(“No,”)_ the woman sighed, “No la he visto desde el cumpleaño de Rénee.” _(“I haven’t seen her since Rénee’s birthday.”)_

Liam glanced at the conversing pair out of the corner of his eye, nonchalantly stepping up to the stall beside the older woman’s. He had seen this woman before today- in the church that first day of their arrival. She was the old woman that had been with the little girl, the one that had sent Ethan into near hysterics with a single glance.

Her stall consisted mostly of glass flasks containing a variety of powders and thick bundles of herbs tied with twine. She arranged the items into a neater line absentmindedly, smoothing out the purple fabric that covered the table holding her wares.

“Fui a ver cómo estaba el otro dia pero no me queria abrir la puerta, eso no normal!” _(“I went to see how she was doing the other day but she didn’t want to open the door, that’s not normal!”)_ The man exclaimed, “He sido amigo de su familia desde que antes que naciera su hijo. Inez puede hablar conmigo sobre cualquier cosa.” _(“I’ve been a friend of her family since before her son was born. Inez can talk to me about anything.”)_

The woman scowled and swatted at the man. “No es tan simple, idiota! Perder un hijo es algo que nunca para de doler. No puedes esperar que Inez se mejore en tan poco tiempo.” _(It’s not that simple, idiot! Losing a child is something that never stops hurting. You can’t expect Inez to get better after such a short time.”)_

The man looked ashamed and bowed his head, he rubbed at the spot on his head that had been smacked. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Disculpa Maria Elena, sé que usted entiende lo que está pasando Inez más que yo podría hacer. Solamente no quiero que Inez alga algo que arrepienta haber hecho.” _(“I’m sorry Maria Elena, I know you understand what Inez is going through more than I could ever. I just don’t want Inez to do something that she’ll regret doing.”)_

The owner of the stall he was loitering at gave him a concerned look at the way that the rosary he was fiddling with slipped out of his hands. The beads clattered loudly onto the wooden table. _Maria Elena_?

The woman named Maria Elena froze, her hands falling still over the flasks she had been arranging. Her eyes filled with grief, a heavy agonized thing. “Si,” _(“Yes,”)_ she whispered, “Entiendo como se siente.” ( _“I understand how she feels.”)_

Liam collected himself with a shake of his head and forced a smile. He murmured to the owner of the stall that he wished to purchase the rosary he had dropped and handed him the money, keeping his attention on the conversation going on in the stall besides him. He accepted the item with a soft ‘thank you’ and walked- as naturally as he could- closer to Maria Elena’s stall.

“Como has estado?” _(“How have you been?”)_ the man asked softly, “Ya han sido tres años.” _(“It’s already been three years.”)_

Maria Elena’s eyes flicked to the back of the stall, where there, curled up on a cushioned rocking chair, was the little girl from that first day. She was clearly asleep. A freckled cheek was squished against the top of her arms and from what Liam could see peeking out from under the fabric of the yellow dress she wore, her legs were tucked beneath her.

“La extraño,” _(“I miss her,”)_ she whispered in a voice so faint that Liam strained t hear the words over the sounds of conversation in the market around them, “La extraño mas todos los días.” _(“I miss her more every day.”)_

Liam was keenly aware that he was intruding on something private.

He knew who Maria Elena was from that news article that had stuck in his mind- he’d be a fool to overlook such a suspicious disappearance from such a well-known member of the community and taking note of the names listed on the article was child’s play- but while as a Finder he had dealt with a lot of grief from the people he interviewed, it wasn’t something that he could ever grow used to.

In the distance, the church bell tolled the passing of the time.

“Gracias,” he murmured, taking the rosary wrapped in parcel paper that was handed to him. This stroll hadn’t been entirely fruitless. He had more information to look up at now. He was eager to leave behind the distraught stall owner besides him and to head back to the church.

He only glanced back more time at Maria Elena’s stall before he walked away.

* * *

 

The room was silent save for the sound of his own breathing. The church was quiet at this hour, all attendees gone home despite the open-door policy that welcomed any visitants at any hour of the day and night. The sun hadn’t even fully set yet, such was the way of small towns.

Liam was alone in the borrowed bedroom, freshly showered and eyeing the bulky communicator with distaste. Ethan had gone out with promises of keeping an eye out for anything odd and had set out to find something for them to eat for dinner.

That left Liam to contact Headquarters about the new developments in their mission on his own. He wished that he wasn’t the one doing this but Ethan didn’t have as much experience as he did and this information was vital enough that he wanted to avoid any possible mistakes in reporting it.

He typed in the number into the communicator with fingers that had the slightest tremble to them. He felt jittery, on edge until he was able to send the information to the Order. He listed to the steady beeping that signaled the call was being sent through. The moment the beeping stopped, a sign that the call had been answered or possibly dropped, he spoke into the mouthpiece. “Finder Liam Montenegro calling Headquarters, do you read me?”

A pause, in which Liam held his breath and tightened his fingers around the communicator. His heart was pounding in his ears. Then, after a soft crackle of static:

“Headquarters to Finder Montenegro, we read you.” He let out a breath of relief.

He sat down on his bed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Thank god.”

There was a part of him that feared that the call wouldn’t connect. It wouldn’t be the first time that the communicators were unable to reach the Order- despite being the newest version of the machine created by the Science Division. There were still plenty of kinks to work out in every new model of communicators.

“What’s your status, Finder?”

Liam answered automatically, having protocol drilled into him to the point in which he  could report while half conscious. “Primary mission is still ongoing. Target has yet to make contact with us. Delivery still uncompleted.”

“That’s to be expected. Stay put and wait for further instructions. What in regards to your secondary mission? Anything to report?”

“Yes,” Liam said. “The investigation of the rumors about the Rio Tinto mines have proven conclusive. I believe that there are Akuma present possibly investigating the same rumors of Rio Tinto’s mines as ourselves. There is a possibility Innocence is present in the location but this has yet to be confirmed. I suggest the use of Exorcists for this confirmation.”

“Noted,” The voice murmured, the scritch of pen on paper audible over the call. They were probably jolting down a request for Exorcists to be sent to the location. Although, who knew which branch would approve the request in the end.

After the sound of their pen had stopped, the voice over the communicator cleared their throat. They added after a pause, “Finder, your report wasn’t due for another two days. You are aware of this fact, correct?”

“Yes, I am aware.” Liam licked his lips, suddenly overwhelmingly nervous. His mouth was dry. “I have something to report to the Information Department. It’s about the town we’re posted at.”

There was the soft sound of papers being shuffled. He could make out the hum of machinery and other voices speaking in the background. “Ayamonte, Spain was it? What do you have to report?”

“I think,” Liam began, flicking his eyes across the room anxiously, “I think that there might be a lack of information about this town that upon further review indicates something else besides what has been reported in the past.”

“What does this ‘something’ entail?”

“I have reason to believe there are Akuma present in Ayamonte.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath. There was more shuffling of paper, quicker now than before. A chair scraped the floor loudly as the owner of the voice shot up from their station.

Breathlessly, “Hold on a moment, Finder Montenegro.”

Then, there was the sound of footsteps almost running away.  

Situations like this weren’t common, not in towns with no reports of missing people. Liam had worked his way up to a Finder from the same Signal Department he was calling. He knew that the protocol for things like this happening wasn’t widely known by every person working the receivers. The person attending him had most likely gone to discuss the new development this standard mission with a superior officer that had a clue of what to do next.

When Liam was addressed again, it was a different voice that spoke this time.

“Finder Montenegro, are you sure about this? Those are serious allegations to make. No reports of Akuma have been made about Ayamonte in the past.”

Liam thought back to Oscar’s terrified eyes from earlier, how wide and haunted they appeared as he told his tale. He thought about the ducked heads, the skittish whispers in the marketplace. He thought of the people going missing in this very town- travelers, vagrants, people fleeing from the Rio Tinto mines- that were talked about under breath but were never reported. Images of the news articles flashed in his mind. The name ‘Teresa Castillo’ flashed in his mind.

“Yes.” He said at last, firmly and unwavering. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Very well,” the new voice said softly, “Keep your head down and make sure the Akuma don’t suspect you’re doing anything more than simply passing by. We shall contact you when your primary mission target has entered Spain. Until then, stay put and gather more information about the situation at hand.”

“Understood,” Liam murmured, his heart caught in his throat.

“Oh? And Finder Montenegro?”

Liam paused from where he was pulling the receiver away from his ear. “Yes?”

“Be careful.” The call disconnected.

Liam stared at the device in his hand for a few seconds before he reached out and set it back onto its cradle with a click. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to remember how to breathe. They were stuck here until further notice.

They just had to hold on until then.

* * *

 

They left Ayamonte a week after arriving.

The orders had finally come in to meet their assigned Exorcist a few towns over, in the nearby town of Trigueros, after he returned from clearing the Rio Tinto mines of the Akuma there. The parcel they had cared for in the meantime was nestled carefully in Liam’s satchel, awaiting the last leg of the mission it had taken them this long to complete.

Liam had assured him that the report had been made to Headquarters. The Exorcist from the African Branch they were to deliver the newest golem prototype to would follow them back to Ayamonte in order to destroy the Akuma that they were sure inhabited the town. It was the most they could ask for with all the information they had gathered about the unreported missing people of this town.

They left in the early morning before the sun had even reached its peak in the sky. The town around them was already bustling with activity. They had already given their thanks to Father Antonio and were on the way out of the church.

“Well, this has been a stressful mini-vacation,” Ethan commented, lips quirking up despite the worry he still felt at leaving Ayamonte before the Akuma was destroyed. He raised his arms over his head in a stretch and heard his back crack. “I think all that time we spent hunched over Oscar’s table made my bones as creaky as yours.”

“Oh shut it, you. I’m not that old.”

Ethan stuck his tongue out at Liam. “Yeah, yeah, so you say.” His bag bounced against his hip and Ethan paused in his teasing for a moment. “Do you think the other guys will be jealous of all the souvenirs we ended up buying? They might think we actually were on vacation all this time.”

“They’ll be more jealous of the fact that you got to spend so much time with me to care about the things you bought yourself.” Liam drawled dryly. “I’m in high demand, don’t you know?”

Ethan scoffed. “Why would anyone willingly request someone so elderly?”

He got a swat on the back of his head for that comment and a lecture on how ‘I’m not that old- stop laughing damn it!’ Ethan danced out of reach of Liam’s hands with a laugh, rubbing the back of his stinging head with one hand.

“You know for such an old man you hit pretty hard,” He said with a grin and turned to look at the church one last time before they left it behind. He knew that they would be back as soon as they picked up their Exorcist but he still drank in the sight of the white building and the surrounding foliage before he left it behind.

The scent of the ocean hung in the air, mingling with the perfume of the garden just along the side of the church and blowing in the air as a breeze passed along.

The smile died on his face.

A long blue ribbon trailed from what had to be a child’s dress out of the shrubbery near the church doors. Ethan followed it with his eyes, terror budding in his chest. He held his breath as he looked at the shadows between the clusters of branches with his pulse beating erratically.

Only darkness looked back at him.

There in the shadows, it felt like Death was gazing out of the bushes at him- Death wearing the face of a child. It was always children, it was always them that nobody ever expected to hide monsters under their skins.

He hadn’t expected it either.

Once it had been him that had been lead astray by the belief that children were so inherently innocent that they would never dare do something as unnatural as call someone back from the dead. The memory of it still haunted him. It still made his skin crawl. There was nothing that could make the fear abate no matter how hard he tried to claw it out of himself and sometimes he still woke up from nightmares of that night with his screams caught in his chest.

“Everything alright?”

It took everything in his power to not jump at the sound of his partner’s voice.

Ethan cleared his throat and wrapped his trembling fingers around the straps of his communicator. “Yeah,” he lied, trying to keep his terror contained, “I’m just worried about leaving the place like this. We still haven’t figured out where the Akuma might be hiding.”

Liam’s eyes softened and Ethan felt disgusted with himself at the sight.

“We’ll be back with help,” Liam said, trying to reassure him. “We’ll make sure no more people get hurt. We just have to do this one thing first.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ethan murmured. They still had a mission to complete.

They left towards the train station with only a few more words and Ethan had to pretend he couldn’t feel the eyes boring into his back as they walked away.

(Later, when they returned to the town with the Exorcist in tow; when the number of people missing had only grown larger in their absence; and the monsters finally showed their faces, he would meet the owner of those eyes- _the one that had watched him from the darkness, the eyes belonging to the child with the face of the dead-_ and think that maybe Akuma weren’t the only kinds of monsters out that existed in this world.

Even years after the tragedy of Ayamonte faded into obscurity at last, Ethan Hale could never forget the way those dark eyes felt like death as they rested on his skin, or how the child of the Akuma felt just as much as an abomination as the ones her parents had become.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think!  
> See you next time! C:


	8. Interlude iv: The Exorcist (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jelani just wanted to get to the damn train station so he could actually finish the mission. But instead, he was stuck wandering around until he sucked up his pride enough to ask for directions. He sighed and glanced back at the nearby women. The looked nice enough, maybe they wouldn’t mind helping him out. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update this back in July, I swear I was, but a lot of personal issues came up that really hit me hard and I couldn't find it in myself to update. It won't always take me so long to update, honest! 
> 
> At least I finally moved things along in this chapter lol cx 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this fic, and sorry for the long wait!

**** The Rose Cross on Jelani’s coat glistened under the hot Spanish sun. 

It was early morning and he had just left the church where he had spent the night in search for the train station. His mission in the Rio Tinto mines might have been over but that didn’t mean he could return to the Order just yet. On the way back from the mines his mission partner had gotten a call on her golem, one that was meant for him and that gave him the instructions for his next mission. It wasn’t anything particularly difficult, just to meet up with a pair of Finders at the Trigueros train station for the newest golem prototype and follow them back to Ayamonte to investigate the possibility of Akuma in the town. 

The only issue with fulfilling that assignment was this: 

He was hopelessly lost. 

Now, that’s not to say he had ended up in the middle of nowhere without any idea of what country he was in- but as soon as he left the church behind him in his search for the train station, that of which he had been at only a day before if he may add, he had lost track of which way to go. He paused and peered at a nearby building. 

Hadn’t he passed that ten minutes ago?

He looked at his surroundings, seeing a familiar pair of women from earlier standing in the shade of the nearby trees. The fact that they were still there proved that he was just going in circles. He scowled and glared at the sky, using the sleeve of his uniform to dab at the sweat beading on his forehead. Why was the Spanish heat so  _ humid _ ?

Jelani just wanted to get to the damn train station so he could actually  _ finish the mission.  _ But instead, he was stuck wandering around until he sucked up his pride enough to ask for directions. He sighed and glanced back at the nearby women. The looked nice enough, maybe they wouldn’t mind helping him out. 

One of the women stopped talking to her friend and cocked her head in his direction, a curious look entering her gray eyes as she looked him over. Jelani didn’t react. He was used to people peering at his uniform as if wondering what purpose it served. It wasn’t something many people would understand, those that did were ones to be cautious of. Anyone that willingly approached an Exorcist was immediately to be regarded with suspicion. 

Jelani’s eyes narrowed as the woman said something to the companion she had been walking beside, a blonde woman with a wide straw hat and a flowy pink dress; and looked in his direction once more. His suspicion only grew as the woman split away from her friend, who moved to wait for the woman underneath the shade of a nearby tree. 

The woman approached with careful steps. Her hair was long and brown, it streamed down her back, ending at the base of her spine; and moved with every sway of her hips as she drew nearer. She wore a simple blue dress, the hem brushing the tops of her sandaled feet with each of her steps. Her lips were curved downward at the edges by the smallest amount. “Disculpe, señor, esta bien?”  _ (“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?”) _

Jelani tilted his head to the side, not letting the woman or her friend out of his line of sight. Now, what was the chance that this woman was an Akuma? He decided to reply honestly, regardless of whether the woman was human or not. Behaving normally was always the best way to draw out Akuma, especially when they approached Exorcists first.  

“Estoy un poco perdido.”  _ (“I’m a little lost.”) _ He said. 

It was true. He wasn’t accustomed to the finding his way around without the help of Finders to make sure he didn’t lose his way to his destination. He gave the woman a bashful smile and watched how her face brightened in realization. 

The woman shot him a dimpled grin that would have had him flustered if he had been one-hundred percent sure she was a human. As it was, he felt his cheeks warm. “Lo puedo ayudar si quiere.”  _ (“I can help you if you want,”) _ She said, “Donde quiere ir?”  _ (“Where do you want to go?”) _

“La estación de tren,” He told her.  _ (“The train station.) _

She wrinkled her freckled nose and her eyebrows scrunched up cutely as she thought. “Creo,”  _ (“I think,”)  _ She began, tilting her head as if making a mental map to the station. Her fingers tapped her leg softly.

“Tiene que seguir derecho en esa direction,”  _ (“You have to keep on walking straight in that direction,”) _ She raised a hand and gestured to the end of the road besides her. “Y después tomar la ultima izquierda hasta que mire la estación. No se lo puede perder.” ( _ “And then take the last left until you see the station. You can’t miss it.”) _

“Gracias por la ayuda.” ( _ “Thanks for the help.”) _

“No hay problema.”  _ (“There’s no problem,” _ ) The woman said with a chiming laugh.  Her grey eyes twinkled mischievously. “Fue un placer.” ( _ “It was a pleasure.”) _

“Mi nombre es Jelani,”  _ (“My name is Jelani,” _ ) He offered with a flirtatious grin, winking at the beautiful woman that had helped him so willingly. It didn’t mean that his hand moved anywhere out of reach of his Innocence though. “Espero verla si paso por Trigueros otra vez.” (“I hope to see you if I pass by Trigueros again.”)

“Lo mirare otra vez,”  _ (“I’ll see you again,” _ ) The woman promised as she brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Estoy segura que lo miraré otra vez.”  _ (“I’m sure I’ll see you again.”) _

Before she could turn away Jelani stopped her with a gentle touch to her arm. He quickly withdrew his hand when she looked at him with her head cocked in confusion. 

“Espere, si no la hace incómoda, me podria decir cual es su nombre?” He asked cautiously, not wanting to come off as impolite but eager to know.  _ (“Wait, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, could you tell me what your name is?”) _

The woman laughed, the corner of her pretty grey eyes crinkling with mirth. She leaned in close, a movement that had his hand jerking around the handle of his Innocence, and whispered in his ear. She pulled away with a giggle and smiled, moving away from him and towards her friend once more. 

This time he made no move to stop her. 

Jelani found the train station after that, a slight blush on his dusky cheeks. 

The conversation that followed, however, was enough to make the smile die on his lips. 

Her name echoed in his ears.

* * *

 

 

 The peach skin split easily under Rénee’s teeth, juice bubbling up and flowing, sweet and tart, onto her tongue. She closed her eyes and hummed at the taste, savoring the fresh fruit and swinging her feet off the edge of the harbor docks. The Guadiana licked at her exposed toes, the river water cool and fresh in the summer heat. The chill of the water blunted the edge off heat wave; while a slight breeze cooled the sweat sticking the billowing fabric of her dress to her skin. 

Inez lingered nearby, gaze drifting from the sparkling water of the river to the town on the other side of it- to the town of Vila Real de Santo Antônio lining the edge of the Portuguese border. 

She had said little since picking Rénee up from her home, besides offering her a small smile and a soft farewell to a sniffling Maria Elena before they went their way. Her  _ abuela _ had caught a cold out of nowhere and had wanted Rénee out of the house until she was fully recovered. 

It was odd that Inez had volunteered for the task of caring for her when Maria Elena had broached the subject in the church after last night’s service. Even when she had finally returned to the church services, it was rare for her to speak more than a few words to anyone at a time. That’s was most likely the reason Maria Elena conceded so easily; considering it was the most Inez had been willing to interact with others in recent weeks, she hadn’t had the heart to refuse the woman’s offer of help.

Rénee sighed, taking another bite of her peach. 

She could understand the reasoning behind the decision of having someone else watch her but being without her  _ abuelita _ in the wake of the Finder’s departure made her wary. Like somehow they had seen what she truly was inside and would appear from the shadows to snatch her away from here; swept into those labs where the dead weren’t allowed to remain dead and humans turned into monsters when crystals of God rejected their souls. 

That was something she wouldn’t have remembered on her own, not without the images of- _ screaming and flashes of white; cubes of Innocence pressed against people’s heaving chests; consuming mind and body; monstrous behemoths bleeding light and spinning, spinning, spinning; souls warping and warping, falling down, down, down when God struck them down for the sin of wanting to fight in a war they were not chosen for- _ her nightmares to embed them freshly into her mind. 

There wasn’t truly anything to fear from the Finders, at least nothing that she could tell. She didn’t ever see them around Ayamonte when they were still in town and Maria Elena hadn’t mentioned running into any of them. She’s sure her grandmother would have said something about it by now, something like, “No tengas miedo de esos extraños, querida. Son nada más que personas normales, como tu y yo.” ( _ “Don’t be afraid of those strangers, dear. They’re normal people, just like you and me.”) _

Knowing that there was nothing to fear did little to ease her paranoia. So she distracted herself, pushing the niggling suspicion that something was coming; something that would make the appearance of the Finders seem as important as an ant crushed underfoot by accident. 

She exhaled and focused on the way the sun shined brightly overhead. On the way the wispy clouds lined the deep azure skies in thin white lines. On how in the distance, a small ferry sailed toward Portugal from the Ayamonte harbor.

“Rénee,” Inez said, voice faint and nowhere near the strong, booming one that she had always heard in the marketplace when passing the woman’s stall before the incident. “Quiero preguntarte algo.” ( _ “Rénee, I want to ask you something.”) _

Rénee tilted her head back to peer at Inez curiously. “Si, Doña Inez?”

“Esos hombres que estuvieron aquí hace unos días atraz,”  _ (“Those men that were here a few days ago,”)  _ Immediately, Rénee’s fingers tightened on the peach, bruising the shape of her grasp into the tender flesh. Her heart leapt to her throat. “Los unos vestidos en blanco. Que pensastes de ellos?”  _ (“The ones dressed in white. What did you think of them?”) _

“They were an omen,” she wanted to say, “a sign that bad things will be coming this way. They were a nightmare, proof that monsters do exist and it wasn’t just a dream. I wish they had never come. I wish they had stayed away.”

Rénee cleared her throat, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Me dieron miedo,”  _ (“They scared me,”)  _ she said instead, “estoy feliz que se fueron.”  _ (“I’m glad they went away.”) _

“Oh?” Inez moved closer, footsteps thudding softly on the wooden dock. “No me gustaron tampoco.”  _ (“I didn’t like them either.”) _ Her hand gently landed on Rénee head, carefully petting her hair. “Que alivio que te sientes igual.” ( _ “What a relief that you feel the same.”) _

Rénee leaned her head into Inez’s hands, eyes half-lidded and oddly pleased at the praise from the older woman, no matter how strange the praise was to begin with. Against her chest, the crystal glowed in the morning sun, growing hot in the direct light.  

“Es hora de irnos de aquí,”  _ (“It’s time for us to leave,”)  _ Inez mused, mouth curled into a ghost of a smile, “Pronto comienza el servicio, y no será bueno no atender.”  _ (“The service will start soon, and it would not be good for us not attend.”) _

Inez pulled away and Rénee was embarrassed to admit she was disappointed- that this new life had left her ravenous for affection, for a reason to keep on living despite the creature that she was. But they were going to church now, for the early morning mass- one of the busiest in Ayamonte- and there would be plenty of people willing to give her head pats there. 

In the distance the bells of the church tolled. 

And so Rénee smiled back at Inez, absentmindedly tucking the heated necklace back into the collar of her dress, pressed against her skin but not as hot as before. She slid her sandals on her feet, as wet as they were. Then, she slipped her hand into Inez’s, not quite tugging but eagerly towing her in the direction of the church. The coldness of Inez’s fingers distracted from the heat of her necklace, crystal pressed against her skin and growing hot once more. 

* * *

 

 

“Estan seguros?”  _ (“Are you sure?”)  _ Jelani asked, voice a low whisper that filled the vacant room, “Estan seguros que eso era su nombre?”  _ (“Are you sure that was her name?”) _

_ -He watched, dazed, as the woman strode away. He replayed the words she had whispered over and over again until he could utter them by heart- _

The shortest of the Finders hesitated for only a moment before reaching into the depths of the satchel at his side and withdrawing an aged newspaper. Jelani took it with a single hand, calloused fingers tracing the bold headline of the newspaper.

_ -“Mi nombre es Teresa Castillo,” (“My name is Teresa Castillo,”) She had said, with a bright smile curling her lips upward. “Pero me puedes llamar Rénee.” (“But you can call me Rénee.”) _

“Estamos seguros, Señor Exorcista.”  _ (“We’re sure, Exorcist sir.”)  _ The Finder’s voice did not waver, eyes meeting Jelani’s in a determined moment, “Eso es el nombre de la primera víctima.”  _ (“That was the name of the first victim.”) _

Jelani’s throat was dry. The grey eyes that had made his heart race belonged to a monster, a killer, a twisted soul. He raised his hand to grasp at the base of the staff on his back and took a shaky breath. He pressed his mouth in a firm line. “ _ Teresa Castillo,” _ he murmured. 

And around him, church bells tolled. 

* * *

 

The marketplace was bustling with gossip by the time they drew near. The clamor of mingling voices rising above all else despite the early hour of the day. It was hard to make out what the center of the attention was and Inez’s steps were too quick for Rénee to hear much of anything, either way, so she just focused on keeping up. 

The heat today was sticky, clinging to her skin and leaving the air tasting strongly of the sea. The airy fabric of her dress kept her from overheating and Rénee couldn’t help but admire the soft green as it swished around her knees. 

Green wasn't really her favorite color but it sure was nice to look at sometimes. Especially in the dresses and shirts that her Maria Elena took the time to make for her. 

The heavy wood doors of the church were propped open with a stack of three bricks. Father Antonio lingered near the entrance, a gentle smile on his face and the corner of his eyes crinkled in warmth. “Bienvenidos,” he called over to them as they approached, “Estoy feliz verlos de nuevo.”  _ (“Welcome, I’m glad to see you again.”) _

Rénee peered past him, spotting Sofia inside the church and smiling at the warm look in her eyes as she spoke to her husband-to-be. Rénee bounced on the balls of her feet, enjoying the way the hard soles of her shoes clicked against the cobblestone.

Father Antonio lowered his voice so that his words wouldn’t carry into the church. He shook Inez’s hands carefully, looking her over with an intent gaze, “Has estado cuidandote, Inez?”  _ (“Have you been taking care of yourself, Inez?”) _

Rénee, feeling the mood shift into something more somber, tugged on Inez’s skirt urgently, “Esta bien si voy a jugar con Sofia?”  _ (“Is it okay if go play with Sofia?”)  _ Inez spared her an glance but nodded and Rénee beamed, politely tilting her head to Father Antonio and scurrying through the open doors. 

“Sofia!” She called as she hurried closer to the altar, digging through her pockets for the seashell she found earlier, “Mira, te traje algo! Lo encontré esta mañana cuando Inez me llevo al rio!”  _ (“Look, I brought you something! I found it this morning when Inez took me to the river!”) _

The young woman turned around in surprise, skirt swishing around her ankles and lips curled in mirth. “Es mi turno recibir un regalo tuyo, Rénee?”  _ (“Is it my turn to get one of your gifts, Rénee?”)  _ She mused, squatting down to meet her eye-to-eye. Sofia rubbed her hands together, overplaying her excitement but sending Rénee bursting into peals of delighted laughter as she wriggled her eyebrows.  “Okay, pequeñita, dejame ver cual es la sorpresa.”  _ (“Okay, little one, let me see what the surprise is.”) _

Rénee pouted, “Tienes que cerrar los ojos! No es una sorpresa si ya sabes que es.”  _ (“You have to close your eyes! It’s not a surprise if you know what it is.”) _

Sofía gave a haughty little sniff, “Tal vez no quiero cerrar los ojos, has pensado en eso?”  _ (“Maybe I don’t want to close my eyes, have you thought of that?)  _ She crossed her arms across her chest dramatically, “No hiciste que  _ Rocío  _ cerrara los ojos cuando le distes un regalo a ella. Esto es discriminación!” (“ _ You didn’t make  _ **_Rocio_ ** _ close her eyes when you gave her a gift. This is discrimination!”) _

Rénee stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry, “Entonces no te lo voy a dar!”  _ (“Then I won’t give it to you!”) _

“Ven aqui!”  _ (“Come here!”)  _ Sofia roared with dramatic lunge, fingers wriggling in the air as her arms reached out to grab her. Her skirt billowed around her ankles, flowy fabric swishing as she took quick steps toward the younger girl. Rénee squealed and ran away, ducking between the legs of amused town folk and the wooden pews lined in the chamber. 

Sofia chased her for solid five minutes, face flushed but smile wide. Rénee narrowly avoided capture and threw herself towards Inez, grabbing hold of Inez’s skirt and hid her face into it, giggling into the black fabric and occasionally turning to peer back at Sofia. The young woman slowly moved towards her, making grabby hands at her as she closed the distance between them, and the other churchgoers around them very carefully pretended that they couldn’t see the entire interaction.

Clearly the woman could see her, but a childish instinct urged Rénee to keep on hiding behind Inez’s skirt- as if by doing so, she was stopping Sofia from seeing her too. It was a behavior that she never expected from herself until her body reacted without her thinking. It was something that both relieved her and filled her with disgust- because this body clearly belonged to a child, reacted like a child, as if  _ she _ was a child and not the twisted dead thing she truly was. 

It left her with a dreadful feeling she couldn’t dwell on in public. 

But one that haunted her, all the same.  

“Rénee,” Sofia sang, wiggling her fingers, dusky cheeks flushing from the amused glance her fiance shot her but eyes twinkling all the same, “Ven aquiiii!” ( _ “Come hereee!”) _

And Rénee pulled her face away from Inez’s skirt long enough to make an ugly face at Sofia, bursting into loud laughter at the faux expression of affront on the woman’s face. She opened her mouth to say something, something perhaps like, ‘You’ll never catch me!’ or ‘I’m not afraid!’.

Then,  _ he _ appeared from the back of the church and time stood still for a long moment- 

_ -one day, her heart would stop, freeze mid-beat at the sight of the black coat and a Rose Cross; her hands would shake and her tongue would grow heavy in her mouth; she would see her face reflected in the shiny silver and the memory of Ayamonte would make her sick to her stomach- _

-before starting once more with a shuddering tick. 

Her words caught in her throat and though she didn’t see it, Rénee felt the way her face twisted in terror, how her eyes widened until they took up most of the room on her ashen face. Sofia’s hand immediately dropped to her sides and her playful smirk fell into a worried slant of her lips. 

“Pequeña, estás bien? Te asuste de realidad?” ( _ “Little one, are you okay? Did I scare you for real?”)  _ But Rénee hardly heard the words. She didn’t even notice that her hands had tightened so much in Inez’s skirt that the fabric appeared on the verge of tearing. Inez didn’t say a thing though. Simply placing her hand the crown of her head and giving her a gentle pat. 

“Parece que lo buscan, Padre.”  _ (“It seems that there’s someone seeking you out, Father.”) _

Father Antonio turned away from Inez, giving her an apologetic glance and placing his attention on the man quickly approaching. Rénee’s heart stuttered in her chest with every step that he took.

The Exorcist stood tall and fierce, a man in his mid-twenties with coils of dark dreads brushing the shoulders of the black coat he wore. His mouth was twisted in what could only be displeasure as his long legs swiftly ate up the space between him and Father Antonio. His thick eyebrows were furrowed together in thought, and the combination of his small actions made the expression on his face a troubled one. 

“Padre,” he began, voice a respectful tone but laced with urgency, “Necesito hablar con usted sobre una de los pasados attendees de su iglesia.” ( _ “Father, I need to speak with you about one of the past attendees of your church.”) _

Father Antonio’s response was lost amidst Sofia’s murmured reassurances, lost behind the warmth of Inez’s hand as she brushed Rénee’s hair from her face with wizened fingers. 

Out of from the back hallway came the Finders, the same ones that had stopped by town less than a week ago and sparked the sleepless nights that haunted her every time she closed her eyes for longer than five minutes.

Maybe, Rénee thought locking eyes with the taller of the Finder duo and feeling her throat tighten painfully, maybe she had been so awful in her past life that she had been cursed in this one. Maybe the stain of who she had been had sunk so deeply into this reality, that the only way to be sure that reality didn’t unravel was to remind her that in the end, she was just a parasite clinging to a life she stole. To punish her for the sin of existing. 

Maybe she deserved the mind-numbing terror that kept the tears from bubbling in her eyes, that drowned her in a fog of despair she couldn’t claw her way out of. Perhaps this was truly what the price of life after death was- never knowing peace, and tearing it away when it came too close. 

Maybe she truly did deserve this. 

Even though knowing that didn’t make her any less afraid of what was to come.

“Busco más información en la mujer llamada Teresa Castillo,” ( _ “I’m looking for more information on the woman called Teresa Castillo,”)  _ The  Exorcist said, the words cutting through Rénee’s rising hysteria, snapping her attention to him so fast that Sofia jerked back in shock before her, “Y en lo que usted sabe sobre las personas desapareciendo en su pueblo.”  _ (“And on what you know about the people going missing in your town.”) _

Missing people? It was a sign, one that Rénee- faced with the horror of having the Finders so close to her once more, of seeing one of the soldiers that she had, in another life, believed fought a fictional war- couldn’t ignore. Not with all the clues leading to a clear answer, to the question she had dared not ask herself in fear of destroying the new life she had built for herself here- to the answer that she already knew the answer to deep in her gut. 

_ (There were monsters were in Ayamonte too.) _

But maybe the reason everything went wrong was because she had tried to deny fate its due for so long, averting her eyes and pretending to be like everyone around her in fear of losing the things that never belonged to her to begin with. Dead girls didn’t have a place in a world, and no matter how much she told herself otherwise, she was still a ghost haunting a living body.

And Rénee knew- as Inez’s hold on her tightened, as the woman yanked her close, hand clamped around her upper arm and eyes not leaving the man in front of them, bringing her mouth close to Rénee’s ear and  _ breathing  _ out words that would haunt her for years to come- that this was the end of the life she had known. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for reading this story! Don't forget to comment and kudos, or if you want to hold me personally accountable for my awful treatment of my characters- come yell at me on Tumblr at MorteSangriz. tumblr. com 
> 
> (Please be nice though, I'm a delicate blossom.)


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